Brandt’s Creek Park. Autumn is truly here: leafs…butternut drifts , cool humid breath, dark limbs emerging, and the tepid sun.
I am not sitting in my usual place opposite the large willow tree on the winding path. I am sitting at the edge of the large pond into which the slow slow creek empties. The island at the centre still shelters McDuck, and as I sit down, a muskrat leaps startled into the still water. He is content to not understand that I mean him no harm.