The season of black cats and witching hours is upon us. The...

The season of black cats and witching hours is upon us. The season of falling leaves and wood smoke rising silently from rooftops and chimney stacks. Listen for the bird sounds as they begin their journeys south, as they sing their songs of melancholy, of departure. Autumn has returned, not bothering to knock upon Summer’s door, but entering softly, finding its way inside, and making home wherever it wishes.