The beautiful Indian Summer is gone.
Most of the trees have shed their leaves.
The trees that once burned with color are now bare.
The warm summer air turned crisp and cool.
Now the crisp, cool air has turned into a cold, biting wind.
The days of apple picking, cider drinking and hay riding are coming to an end.
Soon we'll be shoveling, and scraping and plowing.
But we'll remember
the way the cider tasted on our tongues...
the beauty of rusty colored leaves against green grass...
the way the rake cuts into our hands...
the satisfying crunch that comes from stepping on the perfect fall leaf...
the feel of the wind gently tousling your hair...
the ooie gooieness of pumpkin guts on your hands...
the sharp, warm smell of leaves burning...
the feel of an itchy sweater on your skin...
the glory of God's creation.
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