The trembling aspens quake in a light breeze; the cottonwood branches move and whisper. A plump robin rides a waving bough.
Summer is beginning to wind down. Today a few leaves drift slowly to the lawn. From the trees that ring the back garden, a mix of hot and slightly dry fragrances plays across the deck.
The sunlight is filtered by a thin veil of cloud, so the shady space at the outdoor table is no longer hot but still deliciously warm.
The cat walks casually along the round porch rail, balancing with ease; he does not quake or quail, though there is a big drop to the patio below.
High in the treetops, the clumps of ripe green apples tremble as they wait to be picked.
And I anticipate sitting on the deck in the shade and peeling them, then enjoying the delicious fragrance of late summer applesauce.
The fresh apples require no sugar; it is made only with apples and water, and will be eaten warm, perhaps with a hint of cinnamon.
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