Each early September the massive trees across the street from our building drop just the coolest horse chestnuts. Rarely are they ever still in their shell, as the squirrels make quick work of getting them open, or they open on impact when they hit the ground when they fall out of the tree. Hence the nickname, konkers. On one of my Bailey walks the other day, this beauty was just sitting there calling my name. The shell was almost completely closed, just a slight opening to reveal the glorious color of the nut. I have always looked at it as a welcome to the upcoming season. It has sat on a tray on the ottoman in the living room, gracefully opening a bit more each day. They are supposed to bring good luck. While I certainly won’t pass that up, the horse chestnuts represents a sense of normality that we are all craving. If on cue, they are saying it will be alright. I take great comfort in that.