The end of summer is in the slant of the sunlight, the drone of the crickets, the dry crisp air, the bales of hay dotting the landscape, the quickened pace everyone walks at. Just a few weeks til frost. And we reap what we have sown. Head for the hills.
2 comments:
Stop heading for the hills.
The time of harvest - indeed bitter-sweet. The quickening in the air, though, is always a little exciting. Happy autumn, Nick.
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