by François Leroux
After a hot, dry summer autumn is approaching. It’s September, and the forest canopy is coming alive in tones of red, orange, yellow and gold. As we enjoy our usual Sunday brunch on the terrace we spot two flocks of Canada Geese overhead, southward bound on their annual migration. The sound of their honking fades as they pass, leaving behind a silence so profound that we resume our interrupted conversation in whispers. Around us it seems that no creature dares break this precious quiet.
