Warm your soul with positive thoughts. Otherwise you're gonna catch a cold from the ice inside your soul.

How cold is this season! Even the lights are cold; they have put shawls of fog around them, see! Winter’s knocking at the door. Now, November's fire burns slowly along the woods, they blend with autumn zephyrs sighing; tone and color, frost and fire. The fire burns and kettle sings.

Winter strips the leaves and the beautiful leaves grow old. No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees. Nature listening. A million little suns (snowflake) drops; nature most delicate things, but just look what they can do when they stick together. Coming together, sharing together, working together, and succeeding together. Less me, more we.

The daylight is cold and there's a tang of turning leaves in the air. They split themselves from the twig, swirl and ballet in the space. Leaves are lessening from the trees, as if, they have lived there life this season. They plunge in the arm of Mother Nature and she greets them in her own spongy way.

Salt in the air, sun kissed hair. Harley bikers are back. Jazz on the streets, kite surfing, fireworks, festivals, music, night bazaar, movies & popcorns, farmers market, strange flowers, sunglasses, journal, sun hat, country side, beaches, no makeup and the list goes on. I feel summer creepin' in. Every summer has a story. Bliss is the sand between my toes. Some of the best memories are made in flip flops! It’s a smirk, it's a memoir, it's a sip of lemonade... it's summertime!

Gripped with bitter cold, ice-locked, vision blurred with dense fog. The cold sun is just setting bashing some colder lavender hill. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and field, as it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt. The road is soaked with rain and sparkling under the street-lamps, like a lake reflecting strings of lights. A bitter wind, whipped at my face, its howling forming the high notes of symphony. The evening lacked none of winter’s rough poetry.