I popped out to the garden to take this picture of the red autumn leaves -- my token of rememberence for the day. Because we have the remnants of the bug, today I am watching the Anzac march on TV rather than weathering the rain. Words to walk with: The sobering thought is that wars are always fought near someone's home. Range Finding by Robert Frost. "The battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung And cut a flower beside a ground bird's nest Before it stained a single human breast. The stricken flower bent double and so hung. And still the bird revisited her young. A butterfly its fall had dispossessed A moment sought in air his flower of rest, Then lightly stooped to it and fluttering clung. On the bare upland pasture there had spread O'ernight 'twixt mullein stalks a wheel of thread And straining cables wet with silver dew. A sudden passing bullet shook it dry. The indwelling spider ran to greet the fly, But finding nothing, sullenly withdrew."