Dear Wigleaf,

I went to a wedding in southern Vermont last week. It was peak leaf-peeping season. Tourists clogging roads by driving fifteen miles under the speed limit. The Vermonters said the leaves weren't popping this year. Something to do with the heavy rains. Complained about the white platers (out of staters) flooding the trails and stores and breweries which is basically what I did aside from attending the wedding. The organist played "Here Comes the Sun" and "Autumn Leaves." The bride was twenty minutes late. Someone whispered something about cold feet. I thought I'd like to get married in Vermont. To have some beautiful woman rushing into a chapel for me even if she has her doubts.

On the way home I stopped at a roadside stand where a guy was selling honey and maple syrup. People were passing him hundred-dollar bills like they were nothing. I said "Business looks good" and he said "I do pretty well for myself." I thought it'd be nice to have a little shack at the side of the road with the leaves changing colors while you sold some sweet treats. But what would I sell? A few poems? A story? What if no one stopped? Then I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I bought two little bottles of syrup as souvenirs for friends. Later, I bought a donut at a random deli. A cake donut, fried, and covered in sugar. I got sugar all over myself in the car and thought right now I'm doing pretty well too.

Khodahafez.

Reza