Before Rudi and I headed out the door for our first mini walk (less than a mile) for the day, I knew I needed another layer. A rush of cool Canadian air greeted us as we walked out the door. I chose to grab a flannel shirt I brought home after harvest. Towards the end of harvest, fall began to show itself with crisp mornings and the need for warmer clothes. I found one of my dad’s flannel shirts in the closet. For the briefest moment, when I took it off the hanger and brought it to my face and inhaled deeply, I swore I could detect his scent – even 10 years later. Perhaps it was my imagination, or maybe Dad was making his presence known – but it was a moment of comfort, nonetheless. His shirt traveled home with me and when I wear it now, it gives a sense of warmth and comfort that only a dad’s shirt can.