In the days ahead, the Fall season will arrive on Eighty Acres. It will be a time when the Earth Mother sends her song birds on their long journey south. Crops will be harvested, apple pies baked, warmer jackets and mittens found, and on a clear and still night, the first killing frost will end each dahlia's journey. Perhaps this photo will remind me of the bees and butterflies that danced atop each dahlia. Perhaps I will remember the soft gentle summer rains that nourished the thirsty plants. Perhaps this winter while sitting by the warmth of the fire, I will remember the beauty of each dahlia that blossomed last summer on Eighty Acres. Perhaps then I will be filled with gratitude. Perhaps then a smile will slowly cross my face.