Fall

To those that say Los Angeles has no seasons, I say, well, you must have never lived under a persimmon tree.

It's been downright chilly here the past few weeks, with night time walks producing visible puffs of breath.  The trees in the yard are shedding, letting new light into the house.  The cats are permanently stationed by the heaters.  And my attic studio, a sweatlodge in summer, has become the perfect hideout. It's going to be a great winter.