Summer’s end is swift. This realization struck me as I drove the gravel road that winds the canopy of trees to our farm. Brittle gold and red leaves were scattered about, running after me as I drove past. Today, I can see the doe’s coats have shifted from red to the color of old wood. The deer meander happily, munching on chestnuts and the apples that have thumped to the ground from the trees. Their fawns – still dressed in their summer coats – tag along behind.
Time to Panic or Stock Up?
Time to Panic or Stock Up?
Time to Panic or Stock Up?
Summer’s end is swift. This realization struck me as I drove the gravel road that winds the canopy of trees to our farm. Brittle gold and red leaves were scattered about, running after me as I drove past. Today, I can see the doe’s coats have shifted from red to the color of old wood. The deer meander happily, munching on chestnuts and the apples that have thumped to the ground from the trees. Their fawns – still dressed in their summer coats – tag along behind.