A sighting of autumn at my grocery store.

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This antipasto platter made by G, the teenage daughter of dear friends who were hosting my husband and me for dinner. It was a work of art, beautiful to look at and delicious to eat.

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Compassion. I’m still rocking an orthopedic boot after foot surgery in June. Literally. I rock from side to side when I walk, because the boot is heavy and thick-soled, higher than any shoe I wear on my other foot. My disability shows, big-time. Funny thing is, so does other people’s compassion. I’ve been the grateful recipient of many random acts of kindness by strangers in the past three months, and it’s enough to restore a person’s faith in humankind, or at least make one come out from under the morning covers more readily. A boy on the front row of my church last Sunday whispered to me with great intensity as I hobbled past him in the Communion line: “I hope your foot feels better!” Thank you, young man; you just helped make it so.

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Weird ideas by food companies trying to be innovative. They make me laugh.

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Breakfast out at a place with diner mugs, plenty of cream, and a bottomless pot.

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This clock-reading, crazy Chihuahua. Around 5:10 p.m. each weekday, he takes up a post on a sofa in my dining room, where he has a good view of the street, and begins his vigil. Because he knows SHE will arrive soon to pick him up, and SHE is his everything.