Leaving Garnett's this morning, I headed north on Meadow to finish my walk.
The air was really crisp and leaves of all colors were ankle-deep in some places on the sidewalk.
Pumpkins, some carved and withering, some uncut and decorative sat on porches.
Others were splattered open in the street, orange guts and seeds spilling out everywhere.
But it was that moment when I got to Grace Street that everything coalesced.
The deliciously overwhelming scent of cinnamon was wafting from the C.F. Sauer warehouse at Meadow and Broad.
It was as if all my senses were saying "autumn" in unison.
I'm not even a big fan of the season and I was stopped in my tracks by the perfection of the moment.
Fall.
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