Fall has come. It is surrounding my house morning, noon and night. There are heavy dews, falling leaves and winds that make me wonder if this old house I live in will blow over like a pile of sticks. I can't go outside without a sweatshirt and a long pair of pants. My hair is starting to get that winter static that comes with cotton sweaters over my head that there is no way to completely get rid of it until the t-shirts return. My husband who prefers no shirt and no shoes for as long as he can, has given into his jeans, berks and fleece pullovers. The mountains are painted in rustics of reds, yellows, oranges. I left my windows down the other day at sweetwater only to find my seats covered in a patch of leaves. Coffee warms my toes. The feilds are full of lettuce, kale, pumpkins and squashes and sweet peppers. The empty cornstalks are being cleared and fresh dirt is being tilled to prepare for next season. The sun leaves early and night falls just when I feel like it is time for a run. The cows and dogs nestle into the earth as the sun sets to soak in her warmth. The down comforter is out and covers my bed every night. Fall has come.