I’m enjoying the crisp days under gray skies a lot more than I probably should. But lately they seem to be the base chords underscoring the treble harmony of hot summer, and they feel right in a way that is hardly tangible. These are the days that are made for reading by the fire. These are the days that just beg you to make a warm, savory casserole with stringy cheese and tender meat mildly seasoned. This is the day for taking a pie out of the oven, crust flaking and a bit of the fruity, sugary pie blood sizzling on the foiled baking sheet beneath.
This day is a day for re-reading Harry Potter.