If I were a poet, I'd write a whole collection about the light in September, which at the moment is at its golden, hazy best. The flowers in the back garden are fairly glowing in the afternoon light, the bees are buzzing around what's left of the lavender and oregano, and the sun is warming up our modest apple harvest, which should be ready for picking in another day or two.
Oh yes, and it's also the most beautiful time of the year for playing demolition derby with a balance bike and a giant, yellow ball. Kids are weird.
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