The damp air, fat as a soaked sponge, the flickers of light filtering through the trees, the
swirl of the oncoming autumn made it all a fine day, in Connor’s opinion, to tromp around
the wood following the hawks.
Shadow Spell
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By Dietmar Rabich, CC BY-SA 4.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=61475246
Throw a Fall Harvest Party
Entertaining: Autumn Party
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The forest had always appealed to her. In mid- autumn, it shouted with
life. The burst of colors were a last swirling fling before the trees went into
the final cycle. It was an order Kirby accepted—birth, growth, decay, rebirth.
The Art of Deception