This first really cool morning truly felt like fall – and I think a lot of us feel a pull toward thoughts like those Mary Oliver expresses in the poem Fall Song:

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,
the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows . . .

I started a little construction yesterday and worked on it again early this morning – it seems to fit. Bones and seeds and clay and cactus skeleton – there is something so poignant about fall.