The "falling back" of the clock has timed itself well. Food is falling. We gather walnuts, pecans, hickory nuts, pears, chestnuts, persimmons, and pawpaws. Preparing them for storage and use like the generations before us.
The figs frozen by the cold nights display the color of their last hurrah and drift to the ground. Green still fills the valley as the hillsides are in constant color change. Once again the valley shall shelter and feed the fifth generation of our family as they have fed the inhabitants that have gone before.
I believe the valley smiles.
We are home.