Soon the days will come when the leaves of tree and vine will join together as a symphony of color, rising in the grandest finale of yellow, crimson, and orange before the bare brown of winter arrives. Apples as crisp as the autumn morning will cling to gnarled old branches, awaiting the eager hands that will pluck them and peel them and turn them into pies and punches and butters and all manner of delightful dishes. Rich, plaid blankets will adorn chairs, waiting to warm during long, cool nights by the fire as friends gather to share drink and words. This fleeting moment of the year is the richest of seasons, and I await its golden rays of sun to shine gently on my face again.