Ellie

The first leaf to fall, fell earlier than expected. The September winds hissed with pleasure, as they rippled through the maple, and cedar branches.

Ellie, my three month old red retriever, had half of her body hanging out of the window, intensely studying the various scents of fresh mulch, mid-day bonfires, ripe fields of pumpkins, twisting mazes of corn husks, and steaming hot, apple cider pies from the local farm-stand around the corner.

My right hand, which was firmly grasped to the back of her Martha's Vineyard sweatshirt, was the only thing preventing her from jumping out of the car.