We went to the Feast of the Hunter's Moon today, Caitlin and Becky and me, where we ate smoked roast chicken and sweet potato pie and went to the banks of the Wabash to see if the voyageurs had arrived.
I bought a shawl. It is cream wool, soft and warm and smelling of smoke from all the open fires.
We got hot spiced cider - "It's like autumn in my mouth," Becky noted. And we reposed on the hay bales and listened to a band, armed with lute and guitar, playing Irish ceili music for a trio of bespectacled young dancers.
This young woman and her daughter sat in front of us: a Madonna and child with corn on the cob.