Much as Jay loves paper, he's a tree hugger at heart, saddened this time of year that so many beautiful trees are wasted.

Jay doesn't do that, for more reasons than his tree-huggerness. Yet, Jay loves paper. And wood things. Wood grain and cedar shakes. And pictures of all of the above.

Jay appreciates all things tree. Patterns in the bark, shuffling through leafy rainbows of muted color in the fall, the gaunt gnarls described by bare branches in winter, sprouts and buds that herald spring and especially the brazen few that flower first, risking frost to put on their colorful display early on. Jay greatly appreciates cooling shade, pine cones, and particularly nuts and berries. He loves looking at trees, too, admiring them through the lenses of his cameras as often as possible. And he has, on occasion, actually hugged a tree. Indeed, more than once, but no need for details. It's just a fact. Besides, he's seen many trees, great and small, that he'd like to have hugged, but didn't for one reason or other.

Jay respects trees and the many products made from them. The paper that he uses goes out with Jay's respect and with his heartfelt appreciation of a job well done, a purpose fulfilled, a tree's life not squandered. He

tries not to waste, and looks for "Recycled" icons on the products he uses. If he sends you a paper invoice - and you have to ask to get paper instead of electronic any more - it's on a (beautiful!) paper made from banana peels. Envelopes to match. Jay's proud of that. Jay'd rather we not have any more global warming than we've already got, and he's tried to keep his carbon footprint minimal. Not successfully. He drives around, instead of walking, though he wishes his wallet would accommodate an electric car.

Jay loves the fall, but hates it, too. It's a political thing, trying to maintain the delicate balance of family sensibilities with the need to remain under half a ton overweight.

Fall has some great stuff going for it. There's the wondrous spectacle of the leaves turning orange, red, yellow and whatever. Jay's often seen - and photographed - blue and purple ones - always a joy, and the prospect of cooler days, welcome after having suffered through another of the Deep South's infamous summers.

Sadly, there's the annual Season of Food, too. That's the period of gluttony between summer salad 'cause it's too hot to even eat, and winter comfort snacks in between the hearty soups, stews, and chowders. Jambalaya, even. Jay's always been a person of the large persuasion, some of the time - like now, for instance - holding down the higher end of the category with gusto. It runs in the family, so Jay likes to say he got it honest.

Take Thanksgiving, for example. Much is made of turkey and dressing, but T-giving dinner at Jay's Grandma's house - a tradition that defines traditions - always included copious other food of many kinds for copious guests, all of whom, especially darling Jay, were expected to bestow copious compliments on the chef - chefs, plural, in most cases. Jay's other cooking-inclined relatives brought along their respective specialties and presented them proudly. If there was some to take home, they were saddened, wondering what went wrong with the preparation.

Here's a typical example: You only had three helpings of (whatever) didn't you like it? No kidding, not exaggering one bit! Hey, how ya doing, I brought all your favorites. True, no doubt, and Jay had - well, has - lots of favorites. He's way fond of dessert, though he can put away considerable tonnages of other victuals, too. Then there's the unintentionally backhanded "My, you've gotten a lot bigger since I saw you at (whatever event). Do you want another slice of pie? I made it special 'cause I knew you'd be here."

No kidding, all these are real, quoted from among many sad episodes that haunt Jay's memories. In later years, Jay tried to mitigate the expected consumption in the hope of being able to breathe during the afternoon of wheezing that followed T-day feasts. This plan didn't work. "You're not eating much, are you sick? Let me see if you have a fever. Eat something. You'll feel better." Well, he got it honest, like he says.