Vacations can accomplish several things depending upon where, why, and with whom you go. Ours are normally restful and joyful while I am there. But they also make me restless and dispirited when I get back. Every time I come home from anywhere, I have weeks and weeks of an overwhelming desire to leave again; to leave Florida, and return to the normalcy of four-season living.
This Sunday morning at promptly 6:30, as is the case EVERY SINGLE DAY, I was abruptly awakened by the golf course maintenance terrorists, and instead of churning up a sour stomach over the noise, I got up and came in here to find some virtual peace by strolling some New Englandesque lanes at the peak of their fall beauty. These photos were taken by someone else and most assuredly of somewhere else, but each is equally capable to making me feel I am not in Florida.