It’s cold and wet outside. Acorns have browned my yard. It looks like someone dumped a box of marbles beneath every tree on the property. I can skate to the mailbox on a river of organic ball bearings.
The leaves on the trees are beginning to glow around the edges with color, and now they fall with more urgency, in a hurry to be somewhere, preparing for something. The sun is starting to hang lower in the sky, and disappears a tick earlier each night.
My house has taken on the smell of pumpkin spice. Touches of yellow, red, and burnt orange have appeared on end tables and around the fireplace. Soon, there will be hot biscuits and white chicken chili.
Long sleeves have made an appearance. I find myself searching the closets and drawers for thicker, warmer clothes. There’s a chill in the air every morning. Friday nights bring the distant rumble of Godwin’s marching band.
College GameDay. Cars and trucks begin sprouting tattered flags that flap in the breeze at stoplights. Virginia Tech, Virginia, and an occasional stubborn, weary Penn State.
Meteorologists begin to speak darkly about the patterns or wind currents that might portend a harsh winter. We put such talk out of our minds. Winter will come soon enough. But now we have autumn, and that’s enough.
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
The leaves on the trees are beginning to glow around the edges with color, and now they fall with more urgency, in a hurry to be somewhere, preparing for something. The sun is starting to hang lower in the sky, and disappears a tick earlier each night.
My house has taken on the smell of pumpkin spice. Touches of yellow, red, and burnt orange have appeared on end tables and around the fireplace. Soon, there will be hot biscuits and white chicken chili.
Long sleeves have made an appearance. I find myself searching the closets and drawers for thicker, warmer clothes. There’s a chill in the air every morning. Friday nights bring the distant rumble of Godwin’s marching band.
College GameDay. Cars and trucks begin sprouting tattered flags that flap in the breeze at stoplights. Virginia Tech, Virginia, and an occasional stubborn, weary Penn State.
Meteorologists begin to speak darkly about the patterns or wind currents that might portend a harsh winter. We put such talk out of our minds. Winter will come soon enough. But now we have autumn, and that’s enough.
Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Fall--the best season of the year. Hands down. Thanks for making me smile this morning.
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