1:28 a.m. Well, we seem to have a photo here of a tree full of brown hanging things. Very long, let me tell you, leathery brown things. So leathery, in fact, that when I was walking by, looking down as is my wont, I thought someone had ripped apart an old chair or suitcase and littered the sidewalk with the thick piping.

Then I looked up. Looked down again. Put two and two together. Seed pods.

When you shake them they clatter like a castanet. When you turn them over, you'll see a row of what looks like yellow stitching down one side. And then, when you try to open them up, you cannot. They are more square than flat, more honecombed inside than you would think, and they stay firmly wedged shut, treasures intact.

Now, this was a lot of work for one particular seed carrier. Leathery, noisy, locked up. Is this tree that important a species? Stay tuned. Maybe it does something exciting in the next month or two.

I'm not much of a naturalist. I was walking down the street with this particular tree because I got sidetracked by a For Sale sign, turned the corner, and came upon the leatherettes. I was curious about the square footage of the property being sold.

There seems to be a boom time coming to our little burg. Once again, according to the newspapers, great gobs of cash are passing hands and certain people are high-fiving each other because they just got some of it.

This is the second, maybe the third time I've watched this particular money train pull into the station. The first time, in the early '70s, it was real estate. Too many baby boomers; too few houses. The second time, it was computers, just born. Everybody had to have one. This time, of course, it is the internet.

Looking back, I have to say that I've enjoyed the low times inbetween the high times ... and maybe I even enjoyed them a little more. People are very contemplative if they think they are going to lose "everything" -- or if, indeed, they already have.

I remember when people were mentally banking hundreds of thousands of dollars each year just because they owned a home. You couldn't go wrong -- until the gas crisis happened and then everything went wrong.

And maybe I'm worried that the cycle is repeating itself. You own some web real estate, you sit back, you count your money. Nothing could be easier. And nothing in the world is harder than trying to stop the train if it's careening off the tracks.

Not that I think it's careening. Not that I'm really really worried. Not that I don't care about people and their fortunes. But I keep wondering about poor Bill Gates. What will he do if he's no longer the richest man in the world?

It could happen. Just this past week, I read in the paper that they foreclosed on John DeLorian's house. John DeLorian. His car had wings. It was silver. And now? Now, he's got a scrapbook and a story, but nobody patient enough to hear how high he flew, once.

So remember: Money doesn't grow on trees. Leather does. Plan accordingly.