As Autumn arrives, the huge black walnut tree outside my house begins to drop equally huge walnuts. These tennis ball-sized missiles of doom, which I've watched growing, ominously, over our heads for the better part of the year, come plummeting down on the road, garden, and several unlucky cars with abandon. So far they haven't hit any person yet, but we always put up a sign on our fence - "DANGER!" - just in case, and strongly suggest that pedestrians walk on the other side of the street.
Read MoreOn One-week Families and Mid-Autumn Kindness
A little over one year ago, on my third to last day in Jinhua, my translator E. suddenly turned towards me. “Can I tell you? I have a secret wish,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. I stopped too, and the evening foot traffic of downtown broke and flowed around us, a mix of tired businessmen and young shoppers who barely spared us a glance as they passed. A nearby food stall laced the air with the scent of hot oil and frying chicken; ahead of us, on the street corner, a group of musicians played a waltz.
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