IF – Late

Yesterday morning I was walking along Harwood Street, on my way to the bus stop as usual. I should have been rushing but instead was gazing up at all of the gorgeous leaves, reveling in a perfect sunny fall morning. Some mornings the sun is so bright at the end of the long street, filtering through all of the trees to reach me in a haze. So there I was busy in my head admitting that maybe fall can sometimes be almost as beautiful as summer, and *shock* there was a wasps nest hanging in one of my favourite small yellow-leaved trees, its leaves nearly all dropped to expose the evil bulbous papery thing.

I think it's way too late in the season to have to be confronted with such a thing. Aren't all the wasps supposed to be DEAD by now? If only I was so lucky...

Still it was a little bit beautiful hanging there with no activity, just another texture beside the leaves and trunk, eerie in that hazy morning light, a relic of the passed season.