One final(?) glorious childless autumn Sunday

It is an absolutely stunning fall Oregon morn, the kind you sense won't be seen again the rest of the year. The sun is out. The air feels light and crisp. The vine maples leaves have donned their burnt-orange costumes. It's a complete contrast to yesterday's blah rain.

I woke for a run through the damp woods of Tryon Creek State Park and decided I couldn't be done with this morning. Not with an extra hour to this "fall back" day and more rain in the forecast. Leaving Sarah socked out on the couch, I tucked The New York Times under my arm, along with The Sunday Oregonian's business and commentary sections, and walked six blocks to Peet's Coffee. I ordered my favorite -- a traditional cappuccino -- along with a piece of mulled apple cider coffeecake from Portland's Black Sheep Bakery. Then I sat and absorbed reviews in the Times that made me want to add five about books to my bedside reading pile - books about the historical and socio-political underpinnings of Iraq. An hour later, I walked back home knowing full well that I won't crack a one of those books over the next several infant/toddler-rearing years. And it might be the last morning that I get to spend alone with a yummy cup of java and the Sunday papers for a good long time. I'm grateful for it.

Now, time to compost the tomatoes and dust the bookshelves.

Sarah, meanwhile, has finished knitting booties for our child.



She hopes to have time to finish a matching cap.