It’s the first day of fall and the foxtails shine in the morning light. The colors change and the cold will come. But, the cold is not today. Today is warm and alive. Today there is joy.
“Yet, the deepest truths are best read between the lines, and, for the most part, refuse to be written.” ~Amos Bronson Alcott The lines are beautifully artistic, shining in radiance. What secret do they hold? What is hidden among them?
