Now the trees are draped in colors of flame and a few have even shed their leaves altogether in favor of their simple, unassuming winter simplicity. 
The grass is settling down for a nap under the crunchy blanket of oranges and browns. The stream has turned into a leaf-strewn ribbon of glass, and the water level has stopped rising and falling, as if preparing to be frozen in place. 
At night a genuine chill falls, and we curl up on the love-seat to watch a movie or read before the warmth of our modest fireplace.
This weekend we took some time out to picnic at a public park in Raleigh.
We rented a pedal-boat and floated on the lake for a little under an hour, marveling at the deepening colors of the foliage as the gilded sun began its slow descent behind the tree line. 
We shared the our lake-side lunch with geese, ducks and coots, and the lake itself with a blue heron, a few people in small fishing boats and one other couple in a pedal boat. 
It was beautiful, solitary, cool and peaceful.
California is beautiful, there's no question about that, but I, for one, am reveling in a different sort of beauty here in my own backyard. No, MooMoo... we're not in So Cal anymore.
