Wednesday morning. Stepping onto the front porch of my apartment in downtown Waynesville, the air was cool. A breeze wafted through town from the nearby mountain ridges cradling the community. Walking to my truck, I noticed the first of the fallen leaves on the sideyard. “Felt like fall this morning,” I commented to my publisher in passing later in the office.
Fall will forever be my favorite season. Warm sunshine and brisk air. Chopped wood and fireplaces. Jeans, boots, and a barn coat. Football on the TV. Going for trail runs in the backwoods without the intense heat and daunting humidity of summer. Sipping cold beers on the front porch and picking guitar at sunset. Not to mention the most awe-inspiring annual performance by Mother Nature, which is the foliage throughout the mountainous regions of our vast country.