A Frosty Morning

Dear Diary,

Every morning now is a frosty one.  These last leaves of my small tree peony were etched in a delicate white...like a sprinkling of powdered sugar.  I find it very beautiful.  I also love the crunch and crackle as I walk and the smell.  Yes, I love the smell this time of year.  I'm not sure if it is the leaves or the wild sumac or what exactly is creating this autumn aroma but I love it.

I use to get a whiff of wood smoke from my neighbor's house but now that he is in a nursing home his chimney is silent.  The smell of wood smoke is something I particularly enjoy.  Wood heat is a warmer heat than regular central heating.  I particularly enjoy baked potatoes done in the wood stove.  Their skins are deliciously crunchy, like the leaves in a frost.

Autumn is a real symphony of sights and sounds and smells.  Each unique to this time of year.  I've been picking away at the raking around the house and as hard as it is there is a subtle satisfaction of gathering them up and putting them on the compost pile.  Yes, every season has its own unique joys and trials.

The days may not be so bright and balmy—yet the quiet and melancholy that linger around them is fraught with glory. Over everything connected with autumn there lingers some golden spell—some unseen influence that penetrates the soul with its mysterious power. ~Northern Advocate