The trees look like Froot Loops. They do. Autumn in the northeast is warm wool sweaters, crisp apples to crunch, woodsy walks and stone walls, which I swear have a scent all their own. Fewer spiderwebs now, the season is passing with each leaf that falls.
“If the house is an old one, and has been cherished, a real sense of the past comes to life within the walls and the window panes. A hundred and twenty-five years have passed like cloud shadows over this roof since young men raised the timber above the fieldstone cellars and the boulders at the corners, for well over a hundred years the touch of human life has smoothed the house as the flowing of a brook wears smooth the pebble in the current of a stream. Every outer threshold, for instance, shows the scooped hollow of the footsteps of those who have come and gone down the archways of the years.” – The Northern Farm: A Glorious Year on a Small Maine Farm by Henry Beston.
A voracious reader, I write. As editor for a business magazine, then corporate business; as a newspaper features columnist, editor for a weekly community newspaper, revision editor and author of a book on short nature walks; designing and refining a custom knit sweater to fit – all feeds into what is next.