Early autumn, New England... if I could go back, I would. I could not do more or see more, nor be more thankful, for everything we enjoyed there. It was time well spent, thoroughly immersive, and appreciated. But to have more of the same, to revisit, I would not pass on the opportunity. And as much as possible I relish the memories formed there. Maria and Jennifer's pressed leaves are on our mantle, and here are the ones I saved from our walk through the Public Garden. I had them pressed in a book, then sitting on a small bench at the top of the stairs. Even when they were crumbling and spreading up and down the stairs, I couldn't bring myself to sweep them away. It felt too much like a betrayal, like admitting that the trip really is over. Then I realized one more way to celebrate autumn and Massachusetts, friendship, adventure, a part of the Freedom Trail, which traces the beginnings of our democracy, and my maple leaves... and so now they are in the garland, around the old printer's drawer, which makes me happy.