We are in to the season of fog whisping off the Lake in the morning and crisp cold starry nights and the only sounds now are the August bugs and the loons, crazy sounding owls in the early hours. My neighbors have gone and the road belongs to me and the girls again. The days are so short. Fire in the fireplace, down comforter and flannel sheets and a little shiver up the spine. Couldn't be more perfect.
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