October is such a gentle month.
Still a few hints of summer - a few tomatoes on the vine, here and there - and yet just a faint whiff of the holidays.
Not cold, I still sleep with the windows opened and yet my black boots have already jumped out of the old trunk where they "summernate."
School is still new enough and the leaves are in their glory.
Pears and apples nestle into pie crusts and Chet Baker holds me through days of writing and wondering about my own changes.
I love October's lack of ego ... just content being itself. Knowing that it will go out with a Boo and little kids in costumes seems to be just enough.