Time seems to move more quickly here and summer rushed past with amazing speed, trailed closely by autumn. As she begins to make herself known, her colors and smells trigger flashes of memories. One memory that seems to have left a particularly deep groove is from the garden of the field station where I did my PhD. One morning I stepped out of the cabin under the big chestnut trees and noticed these ghostly shapes of the (otherwise very likable) apple trees appearing through a thick layer of fog. I think this picture will be replaced soon by more colorful ones from the indian summer.

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