His back against the big oak tree, he could see the entire lake. The splatter of wet red and yellow leaves suspended in the tall grasses made him smile. He liked the solitude available here in fall and winter. He tucked his scarf into his coat, and smiled to himself. In summers, the field is mowed and packed with picnics, mobs of kids playing tag, and kites on the afternoon wind. The inner waterway and the mountains beyond it opened up just for him this morning. Behind him was the city and the sound of appointments, the stench of responsibilities, the ghosts of regret. It felt so good to get out of the stream of all the movement, to let the world stop moving. The wind whipped around him, the darkening northern skies bringing the first winter storm. He smiled again, sipped his thermos, and decided he’d stay there a while longer.