An ode of sorts

I am one of those people who prefer to call fall autumn. I’m also one of those people unable to wear nail polish on her fingernails, but that is neither here nor there.

Autumn just sounds more charming and wistful, less foreboding and not so full of imminent despair. So if there’s a word out there that makes the season before winter sound and feel more appealing, by george, I’m going to grab a hold and not let go until spring rolls around again.

But really who needs a fancy word when there are pictures to be had. I am fully aware that a few select people think me hard-hearted, but I would like to remind those people that I like a decorative pumpkin and a well built leaf pile just as much as the next gal, and that I also know when to shut up about the breath of winter that is nearly upon us and declare autumn beautiful, even magical.

A weekend in the mountains does that to a person.
Also, the near month long duration of seventy degree temperatures hasn't hurt my feelings either.

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