Well, it happens every year…

…it’s beginning to look a lot like fall.  But it still feels like summer.  I am starting to see splashes of color on the trees and a few leaves scattered here and there in the grass and driveway.  When I look outside, I see the  branches of the trees being pushed and pulled and twisted around by the wind.  If I close my eyes, I can picture myself walking down the old dirt road where we lived when I was a teen in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.  I  pull  the sweater a little tighter, trying to shield myself from the chilly fall air.  I would deliberately walk on the crunchiest leaves I could find.  At the end of the road, I would turn around and walk briskly back to the old stone house. When I open my eyes I find I am looking at the thermometer on the patio.  It’s nearly 80 degrees.  “Oh, well,” I sigh.  Time to start running my errands.  I slip into my flip flops, grab my purse and head out the door.

 

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