This week we had one of our lasts. It had been surprisingly warm for November, and we packed up our school books early and I sent everyone to enjoy what could very well have been the final day of fall.
The air was eerie heavy. The sky was frowning, the clouds were racing and the light was like dusk, even though it was mid-day. We ran, we played, we planted, and we took full advantage.
It felt like our last chance.
The last chance to bury garlic bulbs, in hopes that it miraculously survives the freezing winter (isn't any bulb a miracle?).
The last chance for gum rubber boots and soil dirty hands.
The last chance for bare legs and summer dresses. Last chance for casually thrown sweaters and jackets hung on tree limbs.
One last chance...
And, bonus, check out the latest fall fashion in rural New Brunswick: