Fickle Fall

Fall is usually glorious, the colors vibrant, the air crisp and clean. But this year, I swear, Mother Nature can’t make up her mind—record warmth, unrelenting overcast skies, chilly mists, and a gloom that’s settled in my bones I can’t seem to shake.

I was out ‘n about the other day, taking photos with my iPhone. Here’s what I captured, all Her Ladyship’s moods in a single day:

 

About Nya Rawlyns

Nya Rawlyns doesn’t write typical romance. She writes emotion as a contact sport, rough and often raw. It need not be pleasant, heart-warming or forever after. What she seeks is what lies beneath—a dance of extremes, the intersect of need and desire, and the compromises we make when pain and pleasure become indistinguishable. ***** She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. ***** When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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One Response to Fickle Fall

  1. Such gorgeous pictures! Thanks for letting us see them, too!

    Like

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