Autumn Harvest

belle création

The house stands in the amber hush of afternoon, its gables catching the last warmth of the year. All around, pumpkins rest like lanterns awaiting twilight, their skins glowing with the patience of earth. The cobblestone path winds gently through the field, a thread of memory leading toward the porch and its quiet welcome. Leaves drift in lazy spirals, each one a fleeting echo of summer’s laughter. The air smells of wood, sweetness, and stories half-remembered. Shadows stretch long but kind, as if reluctant to part from the light. Beyond the trees, the mountains watch in silence, guardians of this slow and golden time. Nothing moves quickly here; even the wind seems to walk. The scene breathes contentment : a hymn to harvest, to home, to the tender art of endings. Have a nice saturday, @iskoglund