I'll start with one of the good things about the morning after a nice rain: clean air. That combined with most of the leaves falling revealed Mt. Rose to me the other morning:



The bad thing is really just my own personal problem. You see, I feel sorry for the foolish, foolish worms that get stranded on the concrete. I guess they come up out of the soil when it gets soggy and for some strange reason head off across a sidewalk or driveway. Losers! So I come out to get the morning paper, and I see them and feel sorry for them. There I am in my bathrobe and slippers, trying to pick them up with a stick and get them to moist ground before they wiggle off it. (I don't feel sorry enough for them to use my bare hands, and I don't normally put on my gloves to go out to get the paper.) Every time I think I'm done I notice another one I need to rescue. I can't believe I'm doing it, and I bet my neighbors think I'm nuts. Maybe I am.

Now that I've revealed what a soft heart I have regarding living things, you can imagine the dilemma I'm in with the mole that moved in a couple of months ago. I haven't found any nonviolent solutions to the problem so far, and the damage is getting worse and worse. It doesn't seem to be hibernating or moving on. Of course, there's no reason for it to move on—it thinks I'm dropping worms into my flower beds for it to eat!