The trees are on fire. When the sun is out, where is the heat coming from? The sun? Or the trees and their burning leaves?
Every day there are more white flower beans to pick. I never tire of popping open the bean pods and seeing the large white beans.
The horse chestnut leaves are yellowing. They look like dancers in the gentle breeze.
It’s a morning for olive-green-pink eggs and ham. Why settle for white eggs when eggs come in so many colors?