The Postscript: Late Fall
My husband, Peter, and I are spending time “up north” with my parents at their cabin by the lake. Fall is late this year. I mentioned this to Peter on the drive north.
“Aren’t the leaves supposed to change color at the same time every year?” I asked. “I thought they changed when the days were shorter.”
Peter didn’t know. We have a lot of conversations involving idle speculation. When we got to…