Friday, October 19, 2012


Maybe we treasure fall so deeply because it has a fleeting nature, each day rendering such palpable change. Leaves of orange and gold turning russet before drifting to the ground. Puffs of breath visible at dawn, evening arriving earlier and earlier. Wistfulness. There are five acorns on my windowsill, picked up on a morning walk, reminding me of our family and how we've loved and grown and are branching out. I made a pumpkin pie on Wednesday and filled a glass jar with bright little mellocreme pumpkins, sister to candy corn. There's an owl in the trees these nights, the starry sky shrouded in mystery. Autumn is a soft, cornsilk-colored shawl, knitted finely as a spider's web. A cloak that wraps itself around you in sensory delight and possibility.

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