These hills are filled with magic. Listen to the secrets.

There is nothing quite as peaceful to me as walking through a wheat field on an early October morning as the birds sing.

---

Did you ever notice that October morning birds sing differently than summer morning birds? It's true.

There are more crows calling out, and the migrating starlings are traveling through. I hear more woodpeckers pecking. The robins have largely moved on along and the mourning doves aren't as vocal as they once were. It's a different kind of music.

I assume they're all preparing for the winter months. Maybe they are somehow more in tune to the fact that the warm months are dying. Whatever the reason may be, it is a haunting and beautiful mystery.

They seem to call out to me as I gaze cross the foggy meadows. These hills stretch all the way to Kentucky from here. Do you see the deep blue hills in the background? That's Kentucky.

Standing here, in this gentle Tennessee wonderland, I can see the whole world fall away from me. This is my home. Not over there. My feet are rooted down here. I'll be in Tennessee till I die, I'm sure. The ocean calls out to me, and is really my truest dream, but for now that's all it can be.

I dream and dream.

But the countryside yields some well-received sympathy gifts.

---

In October there are more spiderwebs hanging around than anytime at all during the summer months. I supposed it is because all of the baby spiders that have now grown into such masterful web wizards. I must have spent an hour gazing at just the spiderwebs alone.

Spiders are a recurring them in my life, almost like little signs from the universe reminding me that it is so much bigger than humanity. Interesting how the tiniest creatures can make me feel so small in such a meaningful way.

When the delicate morning sunlight casts its glow upon a spiderweb after a dew has fallen, it creates a moment of wonder. The landscape becomes masterfully decorated with a swirling, silky wonderland of magic laced upon the weeds and the dying grasses.

The late summer wildflowers hang over, still fighting. They are still hanging on to their final, aching breaths before the first frost comes.

It will be here soon. I know it's coming. The spiders have whispered their secrets to me.

I know I will stand here soon again to gaze upon the beauty of a fallen frost, even as my heart weeps for the October magic that lives here now.

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^{All photography is mine. ©2018 paintingangels (S. Matthews)}