this morning we had our first real frost. the kind that drops dead oak leaves from their branches the minute the sun hits. the kind that paints the edges of fallen leaves and dead grasses. the still, quiet kind that heralds the impending cold season.
2 comments:
I am enjoying your musings and photos. Thanks for thinking "aloud"....inspiring.
Randchune, I love First Frost and especially, the words going with it--poetry!
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