I'm lucky to live in a neighborhood tucked under a canopy of old trees. Oak, ash, and black walnut, magnolia, sycamore. Under these trees, there are top notch dog walking conditions. You get the speckled golden light, filtered through orange and crimson leaves. You get the quiet sound of leaves falling, punctuated by the occasional kerplunk of a falling acorn. You get squirrels. When the wind blows through a deciduous treeline, you get the best sound in the world. We walk with a leash in one hand and a coffee in the other. If Kurt isn't drinking coffee, he uses his free hand to throw fallen hedge apples at stop signs.
Here is a pie apple, a pine cone owl, a tiny dog muzzle poking out of a sleeping bag.