Transient

The air is still but the birds are boastful and fidgety. Zach builds a fire in the yard. Our girl gathers wet leaves into piles to drop herself into before regathering them to drop into the fire. She lets her scarf fall off and I pick it up. We gather and drop, gather and drop.

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Redolence + Remains

“At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.” 
― Rainer Maria Riike

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