Classic

The leaves are changing, and with them the wind. Sweeping, gusting, clattering about. Home is a haven from the cold Atlantic winds sweeping down the coat of Labrador, kicking me in the face. In a blink of an eye the snow shall fall, and with it the drive to do anything at all. The colors of the rainbow give way to the collage of leaves. Floating in the wind, softly settling on the ground. Cold as she may be, but more solid then you know, the ground soon to be covered by another winters snow. In side the home where i sleep at night are the few comforts that i hold tight. Hot apple cider, a classic dill dip. A toast to the season, let it begin.