After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth . . . The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch.  The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze.  The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet.  Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her . . . In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible.

Elizabeth George Speare

5 Replies to “An Autumn Visitor”

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