The Dad Hat Patch

The Orchards at First Frost

Late autumn in the Sierra Nevada foothills, where persimmon trees hold their fruit long after the leaves have fallen. Mornings arrive cold and clear, and the light catches on spiderwebs strung between bare branches like fine lace.

The Valley in September

The fruit stand outside Fresno had been there since before the highway was widened. You could tell by the way it sat — slightly crooked relative to the road, as if it had staked its position first and let the asphalt work around it.

The Long Way Back

The drive south on Highway 1 after something ends is its own kind of ceremony. You don't plan it. You just find yourself on it — the coast appearing and disappearing between headlands, the road narrow enough that you have to pay attention, which is exactly what you need when your mind would rather not.