We had a visitor.

Fall arrived at 8:43 this morning.

I missed marking the exact moment, but nature has been leaving regular reminders that summer is ready to go.

One sure sign of fall at our house? The barrage of black walnuts dropping onto our driveway from neighboring trees. A feast for the squirrels, a mess to clean up, and a menace to windshields. (We learned the hard way to park closer to the front sidewalk during bombardment time.)

They say squirrels, indeed, squirrel their nuts away. The ones we live with often opt to hide them in plain sight — on our back steps, in a bird feeder, on a hose holder.

On Monday, I carried my lunch to the front porch and found a walnut resting in my camping chair. As I sat quietly reading, I saw furry movement out of the corner of my eye: A squirrel slipped by just inches from my feet.  

A few minutes later, the squirrel (yes, I think it was the same one) reappeared at the other end of the porch, a bright green walnut stretching her mouth to the max. This time I must have spooked her, because she froze, turned, and leaped from the porch.

When I finished lunch, I put the walnut back on the chair. Later I came out to bring in the mail, and the nut was gone. I guess she thought of a better spot.

By the way, I used “she” for a reason. I went down a rabbit hole (ha!) of squirrel Googling, and found that squirrels mate in the winter, which means the female will be eating for two (or three, or four, or more). Once the babies are born, she has to bulk up her diet to produce the milk they need to grow. That’s a lot of nuts to hide!

Turns out that squirrel mates don’t nest together, so there’s no help from the dad. Or should I say … dads.

Just Google it.