The hunter's moon is almost spent, and rose late, a mere cup of light rocking among the stars. Mars is growing dimmer, and Orion reaches the zenith a bit earlier each night. I caught a glimpse of a meteor a while ago. If I stayed out all night, I'd probably see more. But then I wouldn't have time to squander looking at baseball pictures.
No, I haven't developed baseball fever. It's just in the air. I used to play the game on the vacant lot across the street from my house until I was about twelve years old, and once had a number of baseball cards (which now might be quite valuable) which I traded for a bunch of postcards from the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition in San Francisco. Maybe that whiff of nostalgia floating on the autumn air sent me off in search of baseball pictures. Whatever one feels about the national pastime (15 minutes of excitement crammed into two hours,) you have to love a web site that posts picture albums of minor league teams such as the Stockton Ports right along with the big boys of the major leagues. Only on the Internet.
