There are those of us who spend their whole lives waxing rhapsodic about autumn. I once had a college professor at OU, a man named Clay Lewis, who told us about one time he was watching the marching band practice on an autumn day in October, causing him to burst into tears.
This afternoon, while Abby was shopping for Christmas presents online, I decided to grab a couple of pistols and shoot the last of that crappy Russian-made 9mm and .380 I bought in September. I checked a forecast and found that it was cloudy and 45, with temperatures slated to be steady all afternoon. I put on a long-sleeved pullover and my tactical vest and went down to the pond.
After shooting about 90 rounds, a few of which even hit the target, I felt I wanted to do more in this soft autumn afternoon. I went inside and grabbed a camera and walked the entire perimeter of our patch, making a few nice images and enjoying the chilly air and the slate-grey sky. I hoped to make an image or two that expressed the day.
I did not, however, at any time, burst into tears.