The fall is suddenly upon us, and it is indescribably wonderful. I’ve felt this exact autumn in my bones most of my forty-one years and I could recognize it with only a handful of my senses. I remember the last ninety-plus degree day, just a short few weeks ago, and then suddenly the temperature dropped. It is still warm enough, with rich rains, sometimes violent ones. My husband kept watering our sparse tomato plants right up until last week, although I told him there was not enough summer warmth left to coax the green fruits into ripeness.

I had a difficult time during my last medical procedure; Ralph suffered while watching me vomit, and about forty eight ours of relatively intense discomfort. Any physical difficulties I have seem to be as hard on his psyche as mine; I remember immediately after the births of our children he slept like he’d been through the ordeal himself, beaten up if not physically at least emotionally. I can sleep better than my mother, but I have her vigilant patterns; never unconscious long, and up as soon as I wake, padding through the house and starting the coffee.