I think I like these days best of all, before the leaves turn completely and fall off, but when the crops are dying and turning colors in their death that are lost when they are alive. When everything is green, or everything is brown, it makes it hard to differentiate between the corn and the grass and the trees. But now, while the trees are mostly green, but wear crowns or corsages of gold or red, and the corn is a golden tan, the grass is greener than ever. Of course, I know that it is not greener than ever, it just seems that way, by contrast.
It is an hour’s drive from home to work. A drive that takes me from small town through what is still farmland to the big city by the lake. And on mornings like these, my eyes have feasted and my soul is fed. I think I like these days best of all.