By Connie Northup; 15 October, 1999

Hi Everybody! It's Wednesday morning in Seattle. 'The fog creeps in on little cats feet' - Carl Sandburg said. The city looks ethereal. Wisps of rosy tinted fog support giant skyscrapers floating, cut off from their usual moorings, here and there appearing as an island through a window in the fog. The dawn holds promise of a crispy, brilliant late fall day as it gently erases the festoons of mist. Window shopping at the Pike Place Market and lingering over a late lunch would be much preferable to communing with my computer. But I park in the garage. As I wend my way through the Secret Garden, the fragrance of a late Rugosa rose perfumes a quiet corner and the Strawberry Tree holds out a trio of succulent fruit for breakfast dessert. The fallen leaves of flowering cherry and maple whisper crisply underfoot. Brilliant gold doubloons flutter from the weeping birch that line the paths across the campus. It is so-o good to be alive - even working. Love you all such bunches, Connie