Fall in Ohio is beautiful. I miss the Hudson Valley (we lived for nearly 10 years in New York), and the mountains there make some of the views more spectacular, but I feel like Ohio’s autumns linger just a little bit longer. I’m sitting at a park right now, waiting for my children to be done with a class, and in front of me is a gorgeous golden tree with most of the leaves still intact. It’s lovely.
I’m enjoying this little bit of warmth before Saturday comes with its blustery cold and whips the trees bare of their remaining foliage. Behind me I hear children laughing on the playground, which is one of my favoritest outside noises, and the rustle of crisp, dry leaves and the occasional honk of a goose on the nearby pond adds to the delightful ambiance. I am at peace.