As I began my journey home, the autumn moon illuminated the south fork with vivid clarity. Soon, the intensity of the sun’s rays will diminish in the autumn chill. Along the dunes, the familiar smell of Coppertone will be replaced with the distinct odor of the earth. No longer will the long days of summer fill our desires for warmth and tranquility. No longer will life’s problems be erased by the caressing rhythm of the surf. Shortly, tall withered cornstalks that stand at attention like rows of tired infantrymen will be buried beneath the soil by a plow. Red and golden leaves will lose their grip on branches and drift silently toward the earth. Silently and with little warning, we will continue our journey away from the sun. The harmonic chirping of birds will not compete with the steady pulse of acorns dropping to the cooling earth from dwindling limbs shaken by busy squirrels. My special place will always be there.
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