Charlotte's Web, local farmers market, Play-doh, piano, catching (and observing) spiders in the kitchen, pedaling to where the sidewalk ends, and practicing his back float/kick in swimming class.
365_2010 There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
—Shel Silverstein
Fall in our house means poetry, football, pumpkins, and a delivery of wood for the winter (which this year came with its own toad). This week was also for playing in the park, diagraming spiders, and the first swim lesson without a parent in the water, too.
365_2010 And we love that time of year: warm apple cider, gourds all over the house, pumpkin flavor in everything from pancakes to beer (being better in the first than in the latter); the leaves are brightening, taking on the hues of the dying summer; long pants, long sleeves, a warm dinner at night. No season is richer than the fall.
fall, photography 
Michigan Marching Band practice on Friday night followed by a beautiful tailgate on Saturday (with our band dedicatee); It's easy to love fall when there are blue skies overhead and orange mushrooms on the ground; Painting, journaling, and practicing—it's all in a week's joy.
365_2010