10/02/2026
I can see that autumn has begun to brush the tips of the trees with color as I set about Friday morning harvest, with rain clouds gathering in the west. The air is cool and devoid of the sultriness of summer. As, at the end of every summer, the flowers are putting on their last burst of blooms before frost robs them of their life. I am, at once grateful for the beauty that endures and sad that the brilliance is soon to be replaced with grey.