Thrasher's Call

The October sun bakes the sweet smell of apples into the air, though their enfolding trees are not yet golden-brown. Locals in tees and jeans guide beflanneled tourists, bushel-bags at the ready, to launch their honey-crisp autumn aspirations from the pneumatic cannon, and hope they hit the target (even if the forecasted temperatures still pull a little high). Still, undaunted families pose in plaid scarves, puffy jackets, and the ever-present ugg boots, ungrumbling at the heat.

Festively, we all dress for the age we await, not the age we have.