See Change

Natural Bridge at El Malpais National Monument, New Mexico. (Monte Dutton)
Natural Bridge at El Malpais National Monument, New Mexico. (Monte Dutton)

Autumn isn’t really based on dates on a calendar. My belief is that it has different lengths in different places. This isn’t original. People say they like where they live because “it has four seasons.” The best way to determine the beginning of fall is that wild onions start growing in my front yard. When the grass grows little, but the onions rise above it, then it’s autumn. The wild onions rise with a crack in the air.

You may have gathered that I mowed the lawn today.

Soon my viewing habits will change. I’ll read about the same amount. I’ll probably play my guitar about the same amount. There won’t be baseball, though. I’ll start watching old movies and documentaries more. I thought about this today because TCM had some intriguing daytime flicks: The Maltese Falcon, Strangers on a Train, and The Outlaw. I didn’t really watch them, but I had them on while I was writing. It made me realize that I’ll watch movies more because the Boston Red Sox aren’t occupying my time – this year was like being under martial law – and neither is the rest of baseball. I’ll watch football, but it’s not every night of the week unless you’re a fan of the Mid-American Conference.

But baseball’s still got a ways to go, as we say in these parts.

I like the Giants because of the cream-colored home uniforms. Well, that's one reason.
I like the Giants because of the cream-colored home uniforms. Well, that’s one reason.

Frivolous observations about baseball:

The Nationals and the Pirates have the weirdest numerals in the National League. American League? Blue Jays and Red Sox. Predictably, I adore the Boston numerals. They’ve been weird for decades and decades.

Often it seems as if the Giants are playing Bryce Harper.

Incredibly, some Red Sox fans have now grown up without ever experiencing unspeakable Horror. Last in the American League East isn’t Horror. Game Six of Eighty Six is Horror. The most recent Horror was Game Seven against the Yanks in Aught Three. Bobby Valentine was horrible. He was horrific. It wasn’t Horror.

There’s so much less ego in the late game. Perhaps it’s the absence of Joe Buck.

This blog probably belongs on Most of what is here is fiction. Sometimes I write here about writing. That was the plan this time. I still think it’s a Wellpilgrim blog, but I can’t really say why. It just is. Read my novels, The Intangibles and The Audacity of Dope. They’re very reasonably priced at


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