The leaves change to yellow, gold, and crimson, fall and swirl in the wind. Gloves and sweats are pulled out for the morning walk. The corn and beans are in mid-harvest. Winter squash and root vegetables show up in our CSA share, and the crowds at the Farmer’s Market thin. Piles of pumpkins and shocks of corn guard the grocery entrance. Windows and doors are closed, and the furnace comes on overnight. There’s a frost advisory for tomorrow morning. Whatever remains in the garden must be harvested or given up for the season. The fish in the pond cling to the depth, near as they can be to whatever warmth in the earth remains. We pull the quilt up from the end of the bed, firmly over our shoulders.
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