It's the time of year when fall flowers proliferate in yards and roadsides, and wild asters and mums and solidago pepper the sides of paths and sidewalks.
It's the sort of damp, drowsy weather that requires tea-based hot chocolate, and speaks of shorter days and longer nights.
It's the promise of cats agreeing to curl up in laps in exchange for warmth, and books and tea piling up on side tables.
It's fog in the mornings and nights, and sun in the mid-afternoons; it's three layers of jacket to sweater to T-shirt in the course of a single day.
It's tantalizing hints of color in the trees, and the scent of cinnamon in the mornings, and the loss of warm summer nights. And this Wednesday, it will officially be here.
It's the sort of damp, drowsy weather that requires tea-based hot chocolate, and speaks of shorter days and longer nights.
It's the promise of cats agreeing to curl up in laps in exchange for warmth, and books and tea piling up on side tables.
It's fog in the mornings and nights, and sun in the mid-afternoons; it's three layers of jacket to sweater to T-shirt in the course of a single day.
It's tantalizing hints of color in the trees, and the scent of cinnamon in the mornings, and the loss of warm summer nights. And this Wednesday, it will officially be here.
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