Mark Tonra's James
Had a brief visit at home between bidness trips, and the presence of Autumn can no longer be denied. The evenings are getting nippley, and the mornings cool enough to warrant slippers and the guilty pleasure of hot cocoa. The orange soup heralded in Cheek passim is on tap.
I'll be enjoying the leaves a bit less this year. Partly because their color is dimmed from the Georgia drought, but mostly because their view is curtailed out my back windows. The emptied neighborhood has been torn down, and the grammar school construction removed trees and their color potential.
The dogwoods are red, though. I'm looking forward to my wood fairies re-stocking me for the season, and to returning home and making the season's first fire.