The October colors have come to full display. Russet, ochre, lime, and amber.
Misty morning fog hangs above the hills and sprinkles the windshield opaque, like a stained glass window, painted by nature, colored by time.
Speeding through the fog and rain. Empty road. Full horizon, hilltops multipling to the edge of sight. A half forgotten driveway twists among the tilting weeds to the left and disappears into the trees.
The car pauses– indecisive– beside the Apple orchard, forgotten trees gone wild and contorted; their boughs drip drops of rain onto the ground.
What lies at the end of the drive? A mystery? Or a memory?