The Indian summer has broken. We ran the heat last night. Trees are turning red. The light is golden on the corn stubble. Loaves of fresh bread are cooling on the counter, there is applesauce on the stovetop, apple crisp in the oven, and chili in the crock pot. I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The mums are blooming with lush profusion, in spite of neglect.
It’s really here. Thank goodness.