"autumn fell like an axe, with a rush of cold wind out of the north, that bit through nydia's thin clothes like a blade. overnight, the trees burst into a crazyquilt of color, suddenly saffron and cinnamon, russet and flame."
daughter of prophecy
i think of those words i wrote long ago every fall, because it always seems to me that's how it happens - one day you don't need a coat, and the next you do. one day the car doesn't need starting first, and the next day it does. there's always a definite point, i think, where if you're paying attention you realize there's no going back, that summer is a memory and if you haven't dragged out your boots and socks and gloves you'd better get to it, because ole man winter is just around the corner.
i can already hear him howling in the trees late at night.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
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