The sky is the purest blue, cobalt blue. The air is still but it shimmers with gold. The earth has slowed down but you can still hear the buzzing of the bees hard at work wringing the last particles of sugar out of the rotting apples on the floor of the orchard. Winter is coming but for all the world it could be so far away as to never be able to get here in your life. Nuts and spices, the last rose of summer, a bit of Eastern stoicism and a dash of Western naivety. There are plenty of times to learn our lessons. Like the purest day of a summer's end, the most perfect part of the year. Foody/gourmand/floral.
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