All that is gold…


…does not glitter. Sometimes it blows in lobed edges in the breeze, crackling dryly to itself like it is gently laughing about a secret that only it knows.


Sometimes the gold hangs in the air, high above your head, in coins bigger than both hands spread.


As a former denizen of a part of the world where fall color was very rare, I can’t quite get over the astounding range of colors as the season changes. The last few years, fall has seemed to happen in the 37 minutes I was in class. This time, it has been a tad slower, perhaps lasting a whole 49 minutes. ๐Ÿ™‚


Yet here is summer green, stubbornly hanging in there, and the temperatures this week are *soaring*. Sometimes to be a standout, all you have to do is hang in there. ๐Ÿ™‚