I love autumn:
the crisp crunch of air that swirls up skirts and the skitter of leaves creeping across the drive;
and the scent of smoke and pine, fresh honesty and cinnamon, sprinkled with nutmeg;
the golden glow that imbues the natural world with a wild sort of wisdom and the bulging yellowed moon recalling favorite mistakes.
Most of all, I love living here in the wilderness, the place I call home, the home where I feel complete and whole and unashamed, a child of the flowers, the trees, the sky, and the silky streams tinkling their icy sweetness.