Fall, a time of harvest, of reaping what we have sown all summer long. Dallying in sunlight and making hay as they once used to say. I find myself lost in quiet contemplation, of things gone on and those left behind. I watch the leaves change, then slowly drift to the ground. Fall is a season of gratitude and yet its full of death as well. The green of summer leaves behind the blaze of autum, announcing that winter will soon be on its heels.

The boys are warm in flannels, they have hammies galore in wonderful colors. Nanny in Texas made warm fleece sets for them to cuddle into. No drafts to bother this group of spoiled boys.

Soon there will pumpkin pies baking, it was a favorite with my boys for a very long time. The babies will get a taste for the first time, bet they love it.