The leaves, I mean.
The wind has caught up. In the middle of last night, I opened the window in our bedroom, and the north wind stood into the room, freezing cold and wonderfully fresh. The knowledge that the landscapes surrounding us might change overnight, that all the yellows and oranges and reds might suddenly be swept off the trees, makes me cherish them even more. I soak it in. Because soon there will only be naked branches left, and we will have to wait a whole winter for the colours to return.
'Till then: