Fall's Clutch
Summer is beginning to lose its grip on the air as the icier fingers of fall clutch abruptly at its sleeves. The days are rapidly beginning to cool as fall begins to press its way in. There isn’t an easing into cooler weather; fall is winter’s first cousin in the high desert, and the brisk winds cut icily through clothing much sooner than they do in most Southern California climates.
As we leisurely strolled the streets of our little town this evening, pulling the girls along in the wagon, we were surprised once again by the haste with which fall lays itself upon us. The wind caressed our faces politely in the twilight hours, but the sudden chill of its whispers reminded us that it won’t be long until there is a harsher bitterness to its tone, when the gentle zephyrs become howling gales. Our hearts are bending toward a reprieve from summer’s vicious clasp, but are reticent in embracing the brazen gasps of winter.
As we leisurely strolled the streets of our little town this evening, pulling the girls along in the wagon, we were surprised once again by the haste with which fall lays itself upon us. The wind caressed our faces politely in the twilight hours, but the sudden chill of its whispers reminded us that it won’t be long until there is a harsher bitterness to its tone, when the gentle zephyrs become howling gales. Our hearts are bending toward a reprieve from summer’s vicious clasp, but are reticent in embracing the brazen gasps of winter.
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