September: it was the most beautiful of words, he'd always felt, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.

 My girl Pearleen & her son Florek:


But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.     

(Stephen King)
















































































































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