Thursday. This morning as I sip warm soy milk I notice from the kitchen window that two of the young mountain ash trees have leaves going over to red. These two have been planted under other taller trees which crowd over from the neighbor's yard. Two other ash trees in our yard have no signs of color changed leaves. It is still overcast as the three of us stroll down the driveway. A sweet smiling face greets me at the end of the fence. It is our neighbor's middle daughter, around 6 years old. "Hello!" I call. "Hi Tiger!" she pronounces Tiger's name "Tigow." I greet our neighbor as I emerge from the long driveway. She and the three girls are on their way to the girl's day camp. The couple in this young family have immigrated here from Nigeria. My neighbor has a round ebony face with wide-set twinkling eyes and she has recently had the ends of her hair tinted a bronzy golden color. "A sight for sore eyes!" my father's pet phrase, applies well.

We have a leisurely stroll down 50th. I am lost in thought. I pass the house of a neighbor who has proudly informed me that she's been in her house since 1946. It's a lovely, humble, white stucco building. Turning west on Simpson, I walk past a lot that looks like it's been abandoned. On one end of the lot, there is a tall old broad-leafed walnut tree. I pick up a nut lying in the street, which has had the green outer skin partially peeled away, and carrying it in my hand. Now the clouds have thinned into a thin veil directly overhead, while to the east it is overcast, and to the west there is blue.

Arriving back at my house, I immediately retrieve a hammer from the kitchen drawer. Breaking open the shell, I am fascinated to see that the nut is a creamy yellowish color. "This is what green walnut meat looks like!", I think, feling the thrill of discovery. Ah, the simple thngs!