A couple of weeks ago we drove up to Madison County where John grew up. These pictures were taken from the overlook on I-26, which goes through/over what used to his grandfather's farm.

I try to be a good and [fairly] responsible citizen most of the time, but in October all bets are off. I spend the month walking, if possible (it wasn't this year) or sitting outside absorbing autumn. I am a witness to the glory that is October—specifically that clear and golden light and that impossibly blue sky. I sit on the side porch and watch leaves falling, listening to them tink, tink, tink on the tin roof and slither off onto the ground. I drink it all in—the hawks wheeling and calling high in the blue, bare branches silhouetted, a single maple leaf spiralling down . . .

If there is an afterlife, it should be a perennial October—autumn leaves, ripe apples, squirrels darting everywhere (and burying more damned black walnuts), the little birds rustling in the fallen leaves, the river brown and choked with leaves in the shallows, Ysabeau and Kali stalking voles down under the feeders, an occasional fat, sleek bear passing through . . .

This is the overlook—we figured it at a 25% grade. My knees carried me up, but slowly, protesting all the way . . . the path is a quarter mile or so from the parking lot, I think.

But this is the view from the top; it was worth every step. This is home; how could I have ever lived anywhere else?
The only bad thing about October is that it doesn't last nearly long enough. It's November now, of course, and while it's still warm, the leaves are still falling and there's still some color . . . it just isn't the same.
It's November now, and time to get down to business: making lists and gifts, getting the woodpile organized (five cords and counting), readying the chicken houses, on and on and on . . . October's gone, and there won't be another one for an entire year.
That's why I'm irresponsible in October; I don't want to miss a single minute. What if this is the best October ever? What if I die and never see another one?
I want enough October glory stored in mind and body to last me . . . forever, if need be.