The cold front has passed through, and the last day of summer is mild and sunny. Woodpeckers are chattering, and a soft wind is sending a few dried leaves tumbling along the street. The sound of their scraping mingles with the rustle of the still-abundant foliage that will soon join them. Afternoon is blue and green and gold. It is no day to be indoors. Nap, Sluggo. I'll return once I've watched the quarter moon appear.