On my way back from work,

I saw a murder of crows darken the sky. Easily a hundred birds. First time I've seen that many.

This place continues to become more like home. I guess that's good.

I miss Webley. He's symbolized fall, and Halloween in particular, for me over the past few years. The cold wind, the dead leaves, and the wild spark, still dancing despite the gathering gloom.

I'm reading The Folk Of The Air, by Peter S. Beagle, and it makes me feel like the world is full of magic. Bye!