Autumn has hit the Mid-Atlantic with a vengeance.
I am Never ready for it, yet every year it arrives right on schedule. With the school books, and the changing leaves, the pumpkins and the smell of fireplaces burning in the air. First it's blue jeans and then fluffy fleece, then the frost appears in the mornings and scarecrows materialize on porches.
No matter how desperately I try to push back the season, it marches right on ahead. I try to tan in September, plant flowers that bloom in the fall; I wear shorts long after it's advisable, and grill while my fingers turn numb.
I haven't stopped Father Time yet, but that won't keep me from trying.
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