I am Falling for Fall

Touches of Fall are everywhere. In the feel and scent of the air, in the color green that is going from bright to muted as the reds, yellows, oranges and browns make their way to center stage. Everything says "Harvest" and "Make way for cooler weather." I have fingered a few sweaters in my closet, almost longingly, awaiting that just right misty morning to slip one on. My coffee looks steamier, more inviting in the Fall, a book seems more inviting, a candle begs to be lit, and a pumpkin out there has my name on it. Even the garden, although fading from its June glory, has its own appeal. Black-eyed Susans are cheery still, and the lovely purply-pink sedum has yet to reach its zenith. Goldenrod seems to have taken over, and although considered a weed and an aggravator of allergies, I still think it's rather nice. The orange touch-me-nots, another weed have taken over the outskirts of my yard and some gardens. Who can resist touching the plump seed pods and watching the seeds fly out as the pod curls back leaving empty spirals of green? The trumpet vine, clinging to the arbor, is still showing its tenacity by showing off still more of it's melon orange blossoms. And I can't forget the crabapple which is loaded with little red fruits for the birds, because this year I am not sharing my grapes with them. My arbor and vine is quite small yet, but I am thrilled to be getting something off of it this year. I am thankful too for Aunt Emily, who called yesterday to see if we wanted grapes for juice. Her vine and arbor are quite large in comparison. Leo and I went and picked, discussing the latest topic that came through the grapevine. Yesterday afternoon, my kitchen seemed to be filled with a purple mist as the grapes were steamed into submission, making 20 quarts of grape juice concentrate. Every year, I think that I don't want summer to end, but when it comes down to it, I wouldn't miss this time of year for anything. I think I am falling in love all over again with Fall. 

Hurrah for September Blessings!

Love,

Dianne