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Flannel gray clouds are providing the muted backdrop for the splendid  reds and oranges of the autumn trees here in Vermont. Tiny yellow leaves from Honey Locust trees swirl around the base of the trees like buttery ballet skirts, and brief spurts of dry leaves dash leafy joy upon the heads of the kids in the playgrounds.  No one can get enough of these tiny colorful palettes of color. Everywhere you walk they beckon you to pick them up in handfuls, and urge you to take them home to spread out in wonder all over your tables. (at least, I cannot resist doing that).  My husband sighs when another huge handful finds sits’ way into our home.  He knows that by morning they will be fried up and curly and have to be replaced by fresh ones. What a marvel that God Himself  designed so many shapes and colors and designs to brighten up our lives before the dry and plain palette of winter comes.

All of Vermont seems to be celebrating this color explosion.  Apple Cider festivals in the streets and pumpkin events in lots of places, and lovely tourists taking pictures on the roads, and craft festivals full of great ideas.   Truly half-past sweater days.

Outside during my walk I heard my first flock of geese trumpeting farewell as they cruise south, and almost at the same moment a mother told her child, “ Just 12 weeks until Christmas.” Wait.  Stop.  I am just beginning to delight in the offerings of a new fall, a season that is just an orange blink of time, and people are already at Christmas?  Faithfully the seasons come and go, and I am thankful.  Autumn is the whisper that winter will be here.  I must think only of each day, one at a time, to savor this lovely country time.