Sometimes rickety, slippity steps are irresistible. Especially when there's fall leaves and the sound of water. Parks on rivers are like God's pit stops reminding me to refuel by listening. This is Chautauqua Park in Beloit. I paused before tackling the damp steps and almost turned back but I had to get the video to share here with you.

We've had our first frost advisories, although we keep missing frost by just a few degrees. It was thirty-eight when I walked out the front door today for my morning run. This week is supposed to drop to as low as thirty-one degrees.

Our front lawn is covered with yellow tree leaves and we've seen some red trees in town that look positively ablaze.

The way the sunrise backlights the prairie grasses on my morning training route could almost make me cry it's so perfect.

I need a warm pair of gloves. I've passed by several pairs at a few different stores. Haven't pulled the trigger on a purchase yet. I want to ask a local for advice on good brands or thickness or some secret that I've convinced myself is vitally important before mistakenly getting a pair in a rush only to find myself two miles from home on a country road with crickety cold fingers.

I'm fussing at the thought of winter to the point I'm turning it mystical. When really it's probably as simple as layering. All I do know is I'm surprised at how excited I am by the thought of the first snow.

That and I'm learning God never promised only warm, paved roads and thank goodness for beautifully different trails on the other end of first steps.