As I walk out the door, a doe, startles, waiting, watching me warily, from the hill.
Not running, just waiting, chewing.
The foothills aflame, with red leaves, spice surrounds us.
Fall is in the air.
Wisps of mist, following the stream as it flows.
Fields, brown, dry, crunchy.
Grey clouds, heavy on the horizon, holding long awaited rain.
Fall is in the air.
Not running, just waiting, chewing.
The foothills aflame, with red leaves, spice surrounds us.
Fall is in the air.
Wisps of mist, following the stream as it flows.
Fields, brown, dry, crunchy.
Grey clouds, heavy on the horizon, holding long awaited rain.
Fall is in the air.
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