I love reading Kat’s Paws. She writes poetic nuggets, such as:

It’s cool enough for pants today. That fall chill is nosing it’s way in. Just slightly. Enough to let you know that, hey, underneath all this greenery there’s a gorgeous death about to occur. The fireworks of fall leaves. The send-off of warmth.

Fall is my absolute favorite time of year. Every year since leaving, I become wistful for Nature’s northeast extravaganza. There’s also something compelling about the “gorgeous death” concept. Culturally we aren’t comfortable with death. It’s difficult enough to die with dignity here. What would a gorgeous death be like?