“How I’d leave in autumn I never will know.”

One of my favorite songs from Camelot is “If Ever I Would Leave You,” which Lancelot sings to Guinevere. He runs through each season, saying that he couldn’t leave her in summer, autumn, winter, or finally, spring: “How could it be in spring-time?/Knowing how in spring I’m bewitched by you so?” It is a beautiful love song, and on perfect days, it is how I feel about leaving my home.

Now, as many of the trees have shed their leaves, you can see shafts of sunlight flood through the woods. The sun is lower in the sky and has a warmer, heavier, yellower light. This fall hasn’t been cold enough for great leaf color, but they are still turning as they thin, and that adds to the glow.

Squirrels and chipmunks are at their busiest, hurrying by with nuts. For the first time we have seen chipmunks in the trees, making their way to the slenderest branches and then hanging precariously as they get some morsel (we keep expecting one to fall to the ground, and wondering what is worth the risk).

Late this afternoon we went for a bike ride, as the sun was just beginning to set in a glorious sky. There is a lot of farmland around us, and we noticed for the first time (were they there before?) some bison in a field. I stopped to watch and then, because they were at the base of a big hill, had to backtrack to regain momentum. We passed a flock of grey geese, which were making their way up the slope of the North Foster Free Baptist Church, and evaded dogs, protecting their turf.

There won’t be many days like this. But then winter will come, with its own loveliness, and I will feel just as strongly about this place.

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