The Chilling Breath of Fall

“Fall or the chilling breath of it, came to Alderiea this morning. Not in any blackened pumpkin vines nor in frosted stortions. On the contrary each seasonal plant and flower was enjoying the sunlight, that cast entrancing shadows across the kitchen. ‘Strange” James remarked “that we don’t get a nip of frost one of these nights”. “Remarkable, I call it considering the time of the year” I replied I placed the two chairs nearer the table, fetched the tea pot so there would be no need of rising to get it, and we were ready then for breakfast.

It was not however in any of these usual “outward and visible signs” that I found the approach of Fall. But hunters came this morning. Two of them, shortly after the twilight of daybreak with guns, the sight of which made Pard protest so loudly that James came down-stairs to investigate, his socks in his hand. The hunting season had come to succeed the fishing one recently closed.”

– Ellen’s Diary, October 2, 1946.