




Contributor:
I don’t know what heals us. Maybe it is time, or the woods, or simply the reminder that the world goes on being beautiful whether or not we are ready to look. I only know I walked out of Winona lighter than I walked in.

Contributor:
My Dad’s favorite season was Fall. He always saw the good in things, so I’d be reluctant to argue with his choice. On this particular morning, Fall was going out of its way to be good and beautiful, and snapping photographs along the way was a delightful disruption of the daily commute. Even a line of transmission towers had turned to gold in the first light. He would have seen the good in that, too.


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