If I ever marry again, it will be in September.
It will be on a day when the blue skies are incredibly crisp. It will be on a day when the clematis is in riotous full bloom. I will clothe myself with a spray of a million blooms and the bees and those who bear witness will be put to task to decide who is sweeter, the Sweet Autumn or I.
If I ever marry again, it will be in September.
The air will have just a hint of burning leaves or burning bridges. The air will be redolent of green things turning brown. It will smell of goodness, ripeness, and fecundity. The harvest will be brought in from the fields and its richness will be upon the land.
If I ever marry again, it will be in September.
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