It is Fall
The Carolinas call me. The Blue Ridge Parkway calls me. I want to go and see the changing of the leaves. Smell the crisp mountain air and take it all in.
It's the orange time of year. The nostalgic time of year. Pumpkin patches, earth tones splattered on leaves everywhere. Swirling, fluttering, pendulum shifting, falling leaves. I really want to see them this year. I don't want another year to go by and I don't. I know some people take this for granted. For some reason I don't. It's probably because you don't have this show of colors in PR. It's also because I grew up in Virginia and they did. Something is calling me north, and I will go.
It's the orange time of year. The nostalgic time of year. Pumpkin patches, earth tones splattered on leaves everywhere. Swirling, fluttering, pendulum shifting, falling leaves. I really want to see them this year. I don't want another year to go by and I don't. I know some people take this for granted. For some reason I don't. It's probably because you don't have this show of colors in PR. It's also because I grew up in Virginia and they did. Something is calling me north, and I will go.
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