Perfect love sometimes does not come until the first grandchild.
--- Welsh Proverb
2. October in Southern Oregon. Sunlit days. The grand finale of color before the skeletons of winter encompass the valley. Cooler nights. OLLI classes and the meeting of friends on the English dance floor. Setting aside that stack of books for winter's read. A slower pace.
The harvest moon hangs round and high
It dodges clouds high in the sky,
The stars wink down their love and mirth
The Autumn season is giving birth.
Oh, it must be October...
--- Pearl N. Sorrels
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