As strong an Autumn scent as you can get. Swirls of smoke can be picked apart as mere trees and paper twine with resins. The fruits of fall join in, pumpkin as well as apple, spices are being simmered on the stove and nuts seem more right for this season than last. There is a snap in the air and the zodiac has turned to Scorpio, largest of all constellations in the sky and the one which comes scuttling in with Samhain, the new year of old Celtic legend. A somber blend, one which is as fitting as a cold tuck-in for the year ready for a long night's rest. The last of the grass lingers but you can smell the dead dry thatch underneath it all, and that is what will win. That is until spring.
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