Nothing says fall for me like the week leading up to (Canadian) Thanksgiving weekend, especially the first big rain, when leaves hanging by a thread are brought to the ground. Ask me in spring what I think of when I think of fall and I will tell you golden maple leaves against a cloudless blue sky. If asked this past summer, during June's horrific "heat dome", what I thought I might never see again -- and was craving to see -- I would have said the rain forest, the Vancouver I grew up in.
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