When the air turns crisp, vibrant hues tinge the leaves, and the sky just looks bluer somehow, you know fall is here.
“Go, sit upon the lofty hill, And turn your eyes around, Where waving woods and waters wild Do hymn an autumn sound. The summer sun is faint on them— The summer flowers depart— Sit still— as all transform’d to stone, Except your musing heart.” -- Elizabeth Barrett Browning, The Autumn
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