October memory. Walk with my father to the mountain to check the house water supply.
It is warm but fresh because it had rained the night before. We clear the pathway so that next year won´t be so difficult to walk to the mountain again. Chatting with him. He tells me that saffron comes from the stigma of a tiny purple flower that grows wild and that a woman from Hungary told him that. She was his neighbor´s friend and had visited and walked the mountain the week before. He never knew that about the purple flower in all this time. I am sitting and liking the midday sun.