I think it would be hard to write an Ode to Fall if fall was always like this. The leaves on the apple tree look like worn green leather. The pear outside my office window has leaves the colour of rich brown mud. I would be worried to stand under them in a rain, in case the mud ran off in brown streams. And yet, it’s strangely beautiful. The colours are muted – khaki and brown and dull gold. It’s overcast and humid, with a lovely mist this morning. The smells are rich and surprising: pears frozen and thawed again, rotting basil, the scent of dying phlox blooms carried on the wind. It feels strangely haunted.
Maureen
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