My black lab ran down the path and I stepped from the soccer field into Eberwhite Woods, engulfed in the golden yellow of autumn maples. I've been cab driving long hours during football season and hadn't taken my regular walk with Mira for a few weeks.

There were new deadfalls in the woods. Down where the path is a wooden boardwalk, a fallen treetop used to impale the hillside like a hand palm down with bony fingers plunged into the soil. Looks like another dead tree fell across it and smashed the whole thing to earth.

Up the hill just south of the upper pond there was a fallen tree, the trunk suspended above the ground at one end where the trunk fractured seven or eight feet up. My son and I walked on that trunk for years while Mira ran around below us but today the trunk lay flat on the ground, chainsawed into sections.

The woods are calm and still, and a daily walk or run is uneventful, but all around are landmarks of sudden destruction.

These landmarks in turn take on a deceptive permanence.

For Dave, here on Mediafire is the Curtis Fuller album "Bones & Bari", a 1957 quintet date on Bluenote with little known Detroit baritone saxophonist Tate Houston.