I hope that Sprout likes fall as much as his Mama. For her, it is the perfect season, just cold enough, the leaves turn all kinds of colors, things start up again, summer chaos and frolicking turns into some kind of meaning, the season just seems more creative. Of course, it could just be the effect of growing up with academic parents. All of childhood was based on that particular calendar, where things really do start up for real -- with all the stress, and adrenaline and work and reward -- in the fall. Papa Sprout finds East Coast autumn depressing, and just sees winter ahead. For him, the leaves just fall. In a way, he's more reliable than The Groundhog. And, this year, our son will be born smack in the middle of what the Farmer's Almanac is already calling one of the worst winters in a good long time...

But for now, Sprout and Mama are just enjoying orange, pumpkin orange -- pumpkin muffins, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin cookies. Planning a pumpkin risotto dinners and toasted pumpkin seeds on soup. Orange leaves are slipping down the Hudson and will hit Central Park soon. And Mama and Sprout will pick up a few, and dream of rolling in a big pile of them, next fall.