Good morning from the Hollow, where a cool dawn brings the first hints of yet distant autumn. He Who Walks Among the Trees begins to grow the annual horns upon his brow. The sprites of forest and meadow must begin their playful ceilidhs. The deer are seeking the low meadows for abundant wild apples and blueberries. The coyotes are sleek and happy, well fed upon rabbits and meadow voles. And all is still green; not the first leaf has yet fallen. But with the subtle bite in the air, rest assured: autumn shows it will come.
Autumn’s First Hint