Last week, as I drove through the northwest corner of Connecticut, I noticed that the foliage up there was just beginning to turn colors. Yesterday, I looked out of my office window and saw a tree next door, covered with golden leaves. Walking out to my car after work, I noticed that the church's lawn was speckled with orange and brown leaves.
In the spring of 2000, my family left Connecticut and moved to Pennsylvania. Since then, each autumn has brought wistful thoughts of my adopted home state, many of them echoed in Cheryl Wheeler's song When Fall Comes to New England. After nine years away, it feels great to be home.
