[Forlì … the beginning of the end]

I am ready for fall, if not all that it implies. I’m ready for crisp breezes carrying the scent of hibernation and dormancy, of buttery afternoon sunlight and tree bark. I’m ready for wool sweaters with cowl necks, coats with black buttons and stockings and scarves. I’m ready for the torpor of summer to die away and yield to the determination of autumn and the trusting state of quiescence that looks toward a new year and a fresh beginning.