AKS1020
Fall on the Buffalo River
This is the time of year I dread, where the temperatures hover near the 100 mark and heat warnings are a daily occurrence. I can't really venture outside until after sunset so trying to keep my flowers alive and thriving is futile. I find myself dreaming of fall, of cool, crisp mornings with colored leaves where the footsteps of winter can be heard in the distance.
Every year in late October, my husband and I travel to northwest Arkansas for the amazing fall colors. Along the way we pass through little towns that once thrived but now are nothing more than a school and a few churches. I see lots of charming, old homes and barns that make the trip take longer than my husband would like because of my asking to stop for pictures. I try to limit my requests, biting my tongue while secretly I feel I will explode but I tell myself that something better is just around the corner.
Fall on the Buffalo River
This is the time of year I dread, where the temperatures hover near the 100 mark and heat warnings are a daily occurrence. I can't really venture outside until after sunset so trying to keep my flowers alive and thriving is futile. I find myself dreaming of fall, of cool, crisp mornings with colored leaves where the footsteps of winter can be heard in the distance.
Every year in late October, my husband and I travel to northwest Arkansas for the amazing fall colors. Along the way we pass through little towns that once thrived but now are nothing more than a school and a few churches. I see lots of charming, old homes and barns that make the trip take longer than my husband would like because of my asking to stop for pictures. I try to limit my requests, biting my tongue while secretly I feel I will explode but I tell myself that something better is just around the corner.