Autumn in Illinois is its second most glorious season. The oppressive humidity of August breaks, the temperatures drop, and the leaves turn beautiful shades of gold and orange and yellow. The corn stalks in the fields wither and dry, and farmers tune up their machinery in hopes of a bountiful autumn harvest.

Then, the dried leaves begin falling, and there’s the lovely, crunching, crackling sound the leaves make beneath my feet or as they blow atop one another on a windy autumn day.  People step forth of their homes to begin the final cleanup for the year in their vegetable and flower gardens.

Jackets come out of summer storage; turtlenecks are washed and returned to closets. corduroy slacks, soft, warm and comfy, are pulled from drawers and put back into daily circulation. It’s truly fall. I dream of bonfires. I stare at Halloween decorations in the stores. I stiffen myself to face the winter months, which so soon follow, this second most glorious season of the year in Illinois.

This post is part of Free Write Friday, hosted by Magic in the Backyard

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