Perhaps only a coy game to lure you in despite what assuredly will come, an excruciating long winter that will leave you feeling abandoned and abused. But there is no sense in refusing these Autumn wiles, conditions are perfect. You will not win.
First the wind comes, caressing your fading, summer sun-kissed cheeks. Bringing with it a blanket of billowy, grey clouds to set the mood.
Next thing you know, its scent is on your collar.
Sweet and crisp. Musty and damp. Smelling of the forts and leaf piles of your youth.
On the shore of the Lake you'll go for a quiet, intimate walk. For the cone licking tourists, have retreated to their big cities and suburbs.
The crunching leaves and roaring waves serenade you, powerfully sweet.
It's laying on the charm so thick only a heart of stone could resist.
You'll fall in love, as you bask in the distant sun, returning home to a glass of freshly pressed apple cider.
Michigan, I have not the power to resist. You have my heart, once again.
You seem to always FALL for Michigan. (Your punniness is rubbing off? :) Jen, thank you for sending some of that Michigan fall in a box to my front door!! I hung the leaves across my bathroom mirror, and I'm giddy about making some apple cidar. If "seasons" were a hobby, you would be the champ.
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