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Maple trees – with some leaves still green, and then some flaming yellow, some fading into a burning orange, then brilliant vermillion red. Hay bales and scarecrows on front lawns. The mornings when the grass in the shade still crunches with frost. Getting out the window-scraper in your car for the first time. That feeling when the wood floors inside the house start to feel warm again under my feet, and long sleeves and layers make everything feel better. First fires in the fireplace, or outside in the backyard. Pumpkin beer with a cinnamon sugar rim, Halloween spiderwebs, and jack-o-lanterns glowing on a front porch. Talk of Tom Brady (I’m accepting this as a permanent part of New England fall now?), Sunday mornings in sweaters and jeans, kids rolling in the piles of leaves in the backyard. Cold, rainy days that make it mandatory to stay home and sit under blankets with tea and a book. Topsfield and Fryeburg Fair. Birch trees – white paintbrushes against a golden yellow flourish. The biggest pumpkin. Maple sugar shacks. Flannel and Timberland boots. The roads that fly through the multicolored mountains along rushing granite-strewn streams and rivers. The ski mountains taking out their snow machines. The smell of roast beef dinners and deep red wines. Even the miserable feeling I get when I watch the beach towns get boarded up. Apples. Real apples The right-off-the-tree apples – of course, apple cider donuts, not to mention apple cider. Talk of what are we doing for the Holidays. The first morning I tuck my feet into cozy socks and boots. Chilly nights with no mosquitoes and clear skies where the stars shine forever. Covered bridges and little white-steepled churches. One last kayak ride along the cove of the lake – the mist rising off the surface in the mornings. And the trees, the trees are just a sunset on earth. day after day, until it sets, and the snow comes.