It's nice to have the morning to myself. KC is still upstairs sleeping, her small body hidden beneath the covers, while Emma has made her perch in the front window, watching delicious little birds sing back and forth.

As for me, I am barely awake, taking moments to sip my hot chocolate and wrap my hands around its warm mug.

Summer is almost over. A definite chill in the air this morning, I can feel it coming to an end. Leaves outside are beginning to change to rustic golds and crimson reds, the first showing of the hibernation to come.

Soon brittle stalks of corn will stand in the fields as the pumpkin patches burst to life. The sweet smell of hot apple cider that rides the wind will speak of fall and the big yellow school bus that finds itself lumbering down our road once again, will be filled with the eager faces of little children, excited to see the friends that summer had tucked away.

Autumn has always seemed to me, more of a beginning than an end. A time when wheelbarrows were filled with wood to bring inside and the garden plucked of its hidden treasures. A time when the slow, lazy days of summer were left behind, as each family prepared for the coming of the first snowflake to fall.

In the hills and in the valley, Autumn calls to me, like the voice of home.

Welcome back.