I set aside a couple hours for roaming in the woods on Friday, walking through dry creek beds, around a sheep farm, out to a river, over fallen trees. Watchful deer and manic squirrels were surrounded by a steady group of yellow orange leaves giving up their grips for the year. I was sad that I ripped a pair of jeans on a bunch of thorns, but was thrilled that I didn't fall into a menacing patch of poison ivy. It was great to be outside for a woodsy sunset in an Ohio fall.
Seriously, though, I frigging hate poison ivy.