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I'm staring out my window as I write this, wondering if there's a dry comfy spot outside where I could take my laptop to work.
This morning started overcast, the kind of sunrise that appears gradually, not with a ball of orange lifting on the horizon, but instead like an unseen hand gently turning up the brightness. Now, the clouds have scattered and the sky is blue, dotted with yellows leaves floating down. Through the screen door, I can hear the crows cawing, and the thunk of acorns landing on our porch roof, dropped by the wind or the squirrels scurrying through the oak tree.
I've already been out half a dozen times-- to feed the cats, to check the water bowls, to take a picture of my garden, to look at a squirrel, to sip my coffee, to just stand and breathe for a minute-- and it's not even midday. If I could fold up the walls of this room, keep all my books and notes in place but let the breeze play through and trade the rug for a carpet of leaves, I'd do it.
Finally, finally the season is changing, and I am more than ready. Bring on the campfires and cups of hot chocolate. Give me sweatshirts and scarves, wool socks and wood smoke. It may be two months late according to the calendar, but I'm celebrating the coming of fall.
Anyone else celebrating with me?
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