Winter had arrived, but, this being Georgia, that didn’t mean snow by the foot or ice glazing over the roads. It was just a bit damp, windy, and, by Southern standards, obnoxiously chilly.
Hazel and Sam began making their way down the dirt road back to the barn, with Sam running ahead every few steps to check and make sure that there was no danger.
Hazel and Sam hit the ground hard. Luckily they had not been tossed too far up in the air, and the road was dirt, not gravel or pavement, so they were not hurt at all.
Fall was in the air. Pumpkins were growing ripe on their vines, a breeze was starting to blow with just the faintest hint of chill, and the leaves were getting more and more tinged with red, gold, and brown every day.
