Yesterday, I lay on my bed, phone pressed to my ear, talking to my honey. Outside, the sky was that bright turquoise of autumn, the previous day's mist burned away. And just occasionally, the coolest breeze would drift like silk into the room, touching my cheek as it brushed by on its way to who knows where.
Lying there, I realized one of my favorite things about fall: open windows.
Too hot and humid, Georgia summers prevent any window-opening. So, we slam them shut in late spring and leave them locked until the first kiss of a breeze, the first splash of autumn color. Then, with a grunt and the crack and give of swollen wood, we slide them back up and let the wind rush like a gasp, an intake of breath.
Fresh air.
Crushed leaves.
The trill of cicadas and tree frogs.
A train's low lullaby as it blows through the night,
provoking the hysteria of a mother coyote and her pups.
This drifts through my open window, when the moon is waxing full.
What drifts through yours?
Happy Friday and happy fall, readers!
Enjoy your weekend hope its filled with pumpkins, s'mores, blankets, campfires, and starlight.
image sources: here, here, and here
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