There's something about Fall. It's always been my favorite season, something about the winding down of summer and the impending dark that winter brings. Unlike a lot of people I've met, the winter doesn't depress me; quite the opposite actually. A person can give themselves permission to do a lot of things that the clear blue skies of summer seem to forbid. Things like spending all evening wrapped up in a good book. (Just finished _American Gods_ by Neil Gaiman and yes, it qualifies as a really good book.)

There are other things too. Like spending the morning writing before the sun even thinks of poking its head out. Like taking breaks from the writing to sit out on the front porch for a few minutes to see the bloodshot eye of Mars peering down at you from the heavens. Like spending time thinking about your life, and where you are at the moment and where you'd like to be next year this time.

Yes, I guess you could say the muse that has always hid in the damp, overcast shadows of Seattle has found me once again. She came with me for a bit out to Cleveland, but she didn't much care for all the drinking that went on in that particular town, so she took the slow boat back to Seattle and here she waited for me to return.

She's patient that way. I'm just glad I found her.

It's a big town, after all.

Hope all is well in your happy places.

Joseph Haines, signing off from The Edge of the Abyss.