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  • The fall berets have arrived. The summer hats have turned. The headgear chlorophyll is heading for the highway and the air is full of the crisp reds, the brilliant oranges, the soft pinks, nodding on the stems of humans.

    The bodies of white and cotton have turned to their autumn shades of boiled wool flash orange dyed mutton, Basque red agitation, the shearing hot hues of the herds and the flocks, the more woodsy nylons, the denim with the umber cords.

    The humans match the leaves, even if we don't know it.

    The leaves match us sprouts walking in our fall finery. We, too, are in the fall cavalcade of colour.

    Oh, how fine to be a girl from the North Country fair, shuffling the fallen leaves, walking when the winds are not quite yet heavy on the borderline, and the hats, the tams, the toques, the berets are turning, turning, turning.

    (Photo by Susan)
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