Gray gets old, say the skies of this particular November. Sometimes you’ve just got to splash the sunrise with a bright band of orange and let it melt into a wash of peach and pink. Sometimes you’ve got to just drop everything and put on a show. Which suits my mood because lately, I have been waking up feeling grateful. Big G, little g, every kind of grateful. Why now? In this month, in this city, where the days are getting shorter and darker so rapidly it’s hard to keep up? And yet here I am, bathed in gratitude. For so many things. Here are a few:  The tiny, barely-pink-yet buds on my ancient Christmas cactus, which never ever used to bloom, because I neglected it for about three decades, until one day, about a year ago, when I decided to treat it with the respect it deserved, being so old and still inexplicably alive.  The Cooper’s Hawk who perched on a branch right outside my window for a good long stare-down. He was curling and uncurling his claws. Unsure whether to stay or go. It was like we were having a phone conversation with our eyes, instead of just dashing off a good-morning text. I didn't dare unlock eyes and reach for my camera. This happened days ago, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Those eyes! All the leaves, gold and orange and red and now mostly gone from our block, but still lighting up the dark spots in the parks and woods. I’ve [...]