Fleeting.

Back of a stop sign, Utica, New York.

Sometimes, I don't know, either. I just bring it so that you can see it, too.

There were lovelier things today, but we're in the dark season here, and no one wants to startle a baby with a flash. And so what was lovely goes down in words only--the wide-faced wide-mouthed grins, the curling and cuddling, the pancakes and cider mill runs and bookstore jaunts, the crying and the various pains and the meanders.