There always comes a day in the fall when the leaves decide to drop off my ash tree, and it appears that the day has come. The tree has shed an incredible glow into the bedroom window each morning for the last week. I wake up and stay a little longer in bed, enjoying the light that only happens one week a year. Every little breeze makes my windchime sing, accompanied by the rustle of the newly fallen leaves. The ground is a crazy patchwork of still green vinca vines edged in white topped with beige, to golden, to brown leaves.
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