I've noticed lethargic bees and bumblebees clinging to remaining flower blossoms in the garden, unwilling or unable to give up Summer's bounty.I, too, cling to traces of the past season.I pick tiny bouquets of black-eyed Susans for the table. Tiny, green tomatoes look hopeful on the old vines, but I don't bother to pluck them now. Our yard is a lush wall-to-wall golden carpet of maple leaves. No quiet walks now! Valley fogs cloak each morning and have protected us from severe frost but Autumn's chill is settling and we feel it in our bones. Brrr! We have to dress warmly while waiting for the bus to emerge out of the mist. We wear sweaters and shiver, prolonging the season, procrastinating the search for Winter coats.Woodsmoke scents the air; apple logs smell best. Fall. It's richness fades too quickly to somber bare-boned skeleton trees. Breathe it in before it's just another memory!