In the waning days of summer I become enamored with the quality of light. Early morning or late afternoon, the low angle sunlight filters through trees, over meadow, across vineyard, warming chilled arms and cold knees. It highlights renegade solitary leaves that have fallen on the pavement. The singular red, orange, or gold, stark against black asphalt. Then, whizzing automobiles scatter their presence, gutter bound.
I am in awe. The September sunlight is ethereal, entrancing. It's my favorite time of year.