!Fall --- agk's diary 16 September 2023 @ 22:29 UTC --- written on GPD Win 1 while Grammy turns 95 and my daughter coughs in bed --- Tastes of fall: orange custardy persimmons, sweet slick muscadine grapes plucked from among pine needles where they fell in the Georgia hills, rich meaty pecans from my aunt's house in the North Carolina piedmont. Soon persimmons will fall here, too, in Kentucky. Sound of fall: rain that fell in puffs of cool in Georgia, rain falling steady outside my window. Turkeys are bigger and bolder. On a social ride last week I spotted four of them by the unfinished bypass road, still used only by bicycles. I thought they were deer in tall grass til we got closer. Creeks are low, and water flowing through local caves which emerges as springs. Some caves are only passable to humans when the water level drops. They seal, trapping visitors inside, with a good storm. My beans and tomatoes are still producing. Compost still renders food scraps into rich soil in about a week. My windows remain open. My friends are chopping wood and stacking it. When cold weather comes, they'll need it to stay warm. Maybe they'll bed under blankets, wrap their backs with wool, cuddle with hot water bottles and a pot of tea like we do. They also have warm dogs. I picked some of their abundant mountain mint, dried it on the way home. I thought about what to do if I could easily visit to improve their water situation. Something involv- ing water line buried below frostline, their water buffalo toted across the creek, situated uphill or on a platform above the elevation of their house for a cistern. Insulated with hay bales or rigid foam against freezing, with the spin filter or something to keep sand out of it & periodic sanitization. Somewhere to carry water, and one day to pump springwater or drain rainwater. Water matters more than electric. My Grammy turns 95 today, surrounded by my parents, brother, nephew, cousin, aunt---but not me or my daughter. I couldn't get the time off work. The celebration was planned after my work schedule. I'm sad we're not there. Tomorrow my brother turns 37. Tonight Evy's in Louisville doing a rope perform- ance. Tomorrow she works at the hospital. Daughter and I bike to church then drive to the city library for a panel discussion about restoring passenger rail. Right now, it rains steadily, refilling our groundwater. Crickets chirp in the woods. Daughter is asleep. I have a book to finish reading.