It's raining. The grass that we thought might not need mowing again until Spring is looking pretty green and long.

Pumpkins on the neighbor's porch drip with water, their washable marker painted eyes flowing down onto their melting mouth. Now that's scary.

Filmy spider webs thrown carelessly over the bushes across the street sink down into the low branches heavy with moisture. No arachnid would claim to be the contractor on those projects.

Fall and the frost is on the pumpkin. Not!

And that's what I'm thinking about.