I don’t know how to capture autumn around here. I just know that it is achingly beautiful. The grasses are yellow and gold and brown. The trees are all shades of yellow and red and some are still green. You can smell the overturned earth in the plowed fields. I never remember autumn being so visceral, something that I can recognize and know in my own body. They tell me that everything will change on Monday, when we are expecting our first freeze.
Somewhere I once heard the words, death is as gentle as a falling leaf. It seems almost miraculous that I can watch this, day by day.