I have always loved autumn the most of any of the seasons. Growing up it was about the piles of leaves, and watching my father rack leaves into a huge pile and then burn the leaves. I loved that luscious smell. Dad would look so big and strong as he keep his eyes on the burning file. I was so young. The weather would soon become chilled, and my mother would start feeding our winter birds. Some where mothers would be baking fruit pies and children would be excited from the sugary sweets. My mother did not bake. Why would you bake when you could find a perfectly wonderful pie in the freezer section of the local store?
