A New England Fall

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I love Fall and there is no better Fall than on the East coast. We were lucky enough to grow up with hot apple cider at our finger tips, running with the sound of crunching leaves under our tiny feet as we scoured for apples, staying up late to carve pumpkins while watching the rest of the neighborhood set out their jack o’ lanterns — the lights quickly popping up around the neighborhood and lining the streets. But surprisingly, my favorite part of Fall as a kid was watching the colors change. I could never get enough of the vivid and deep reds, the bright and alarming oranges, and the subtle but welcomed yellows. And in a way that I hadn’t quite realized yet, I loved knowing that something dies with Fall and is born in the delicate and pure, white snow of Winter. It felt like coming home.

So, when we headed up to Vermont to check out land for our soon-to-be tiny house, it was no surprise to me how quickly my inner child took over, threw her shoes in the back seat, and sat in Indian style, wide eyed at the changing colors around her.

Oh, how excited I am that the best time of the year is here.

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