Each year, around the second week of October, or so, I begin to wax poetic on my dreams of sitting on a front porch, bundled up with book in hand. Perhaps a small lamp perfectly placed on the table beside me. The bugs are mostly gone this time of year and the soft glow would fill the painted porch woodwork well. I imagine the lovely smells of nieghborhood fireplaces and the sounds of leaves crunching as kids walked by. I imagine tall maples overhead, clear skies and the sent of good two hour dinner wafting from the oven.
I shall continue to wax.. wonder and imagine… this will go on ’til Spring.
Britt : )