"When I was two, I was nearly new."

It's autumn in New York again.

Not that spring wasn't lovely.

"Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow --
Up on the hill where the pine-trees blow --
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know."--A.A. Milne



But there isn't anything like fall, at least not to a woman who grew up under the palm trees of West Hollywood watching Woody Allen movies as if they were a television yule log backdrop. And now my daughter thinks this is a normal childhood, which for her, it is.