The valley has begun to change. Within just a few days the golden-brown floors of the many fields found here have turned a new crisp green, in a strange late spring. The beginning of fall can only be caught in the occasional yellowing grape leaf, peppered among the awaiting rows of viridescence.
In hardly a handful of weeks each leaf will become its own flower in the explosion of autumn. The reds and yellows sending their sudden colors into the heavens, into the earth. Leaving the gnarled, waved vines to the winter; fading pages covering the ground, in unbound and undone folios.
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