Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.
---George Eliot
The temperature is dropping, and our neighbors are laying in their winter fuel. (Eleanor is also stealing MY sweater for the walk home late at night.) A surprising number of homes are heated by wood, largely an artifact of the war, when people put in wood-burning stoves because there was no other fuel available. The air quality worsens dramatically in winter, but, oh, I can't wait to smell the wood smoke!
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