Autumn brings many pleasant things. The apples come off of the trees, ripe for eating. Cider begins to flow and find its way into the stores. I begin mulling my cider and baking pies. The leaves turn to fire and drop to the ground. The trees become bare and everything in this world begins to die. Autumn is the season of bounty and waning, of that final passionate explosion before the cold stillness of winter.
Such a nice, chilly morning. Where the crisp air meets me, I wake. The living green of my world turned to fire overnight and begins to push for its brilliant last climax before the dead season.