It’s a beautiful day on the back deck. 64 degrees and sunny. Fringes of white, faint clouds along the south. Cerulean blue above. Blue Jays squawking, waxing cresent moon above. The occasional breeze is puffing fall leaves into the air, and they waft downward with a serenity born of habit, to allow the next population to proceed them in the spring. At times only one or two falling leaves are visible, but the fall is inexorable, and will continue until they are all upon the earth. The Jays cavort in the copse of wood at the back of the yard. A Titmouse alights upon the deck railing, turning his head toward me in greeting, and just as swiftly departs. A Dark-eyed Junco appears at the feeder for a bite as a Tawney Woodpecker plies his trade upon the tallest oak in the common area behind our line of suburban abodes.

The hour approaches nine o’clock. Suburban mechanization begins to supplant the placid nature chatterings. Heather’s ill-positioned sprinklers awake and begin assaulting the skirting around her back deck next door. A generator two doors down rumbles to life to assist the contractor in his endeavors. The ubiquitous legion of Amazon, Fed Ex, and UPS trucks descend upon the neighborhood to disperse the on-line purchases of the inhabitants. Your faithful narrator pauses to refill and re-heat his neglected cup of coffee, having no idea this idyllic day would end in a maelstrom of confusion.