In North Georgia the black gums started it. One branch at a time going red in green woods, three weeks before anything else dares. Goldenrod up along I-20. The light comes amber at seven now instead of eight.

Tha a' bhliadhna a' tionndadh — the year is turning. It does that without asking permission, and it did it the year the tariffs didn't exist and it will do it the year they're gone.

Tomorrow I'm walking down to the fence line before the heat sets in and eating muscadines off the vine until my fingers go purple and my jaw aches from the skins. That's the whole plan. I dare anybody in Washington to find the line item.

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