The rain fell hard this morning in the Woods. This is the type of day when no one is exploring other than the Old Man. The hard ground of summer has become the spongy ground of fall. The kind of rain that soaks a raincoat through. The Old Man lit his pipe. In the corner of his eye, he saw a young man hurrying to the shelter with what appeared to be tomatoes in his hand and a white plate. First, the Old Man waved, and the young man kept walking toward a respite from the rain. Then the Old Man spoke, and the young man returned the greeting. He spoke as if the Old Man knew his story. ‘I have three days off work and this is the last day,’ the Young Man said. ‘Three days is too much for being in the Woods in the rain,’ the Young Man noted. ‘I love the Woods and a little rain, but this is more than I bargained for,’ the Young Man continued. The Young Man proceeded to place four ruby-red tomatoes on his white plate and began eating. He looked familiar in a strange sort of way. I wondered where he got the tomatoes that appeared to be garden fresh in mid-fall.

‘I have lost my way, I fear,’ the Young Man said to the Old Man. ‘What day of the week is it?’ the Young Man asked. ‘Why, it is Wednesday of course,’ the Old Man answered with a wry grin. ‘I thought days running together was a malady of the old,’ the Old Man laughed. ‘I come to the Woods almost every day and have never seen you here before,’ the Old Man commented. ‘Usually, a rainy day like this keeps everyone home,’ the Old Man chuckled.

‘In the past, I often came to Southern Illinois with my wife and son,’ the Young Man mentioned. ‘My wife’s family lived in Eldorado,’ the Young Man offered. ‘I rode a Harley Davidson with my son sandwiched in the middle between my wife and me,’ the Young Man said with a reminiscent grin. ‘Would you care for a tomato? They are fresh from my garden,’ the Young man asked the Old Man. ‘We did not have a garden in Chicago, but began one in Eldorado as all of our neighbors had one as well,’ the Young Man noted.

The mama deer and her baby watched with interest. A flock of geese flew overhead. The Young Man ate with vigor.

‘My family moved to Eldorado in 1963,’ the Old man said. ‘Dad planted a tomato garden in the backyard of the Haunted Victorian House we lived in,’ the Old man said with determination. ‘Dad rode a Harley-Davidson,’ the Old Man noted with a quavering voice. ‘He loved to walk in these Woods when we visited Eldorado,’ the Old Man explained. ‘He smoked Pall Mall cigarettes,’ the Old Man remembered. ‘Where is your automobile?’ the Old Man asked.

‘It has been a long time since I saw my Harley Davidson,’ the Young Man said. ‘Is JFK still President?’ the Young Man asked. ‘Do you have a light?’ the Young Man asked as he pulled a package of Pall Mall cigarettes from his breast pocket.