On autumn nights like this one my neighbors gather outside their cabins. Every year it is the same. And why not? Soon we will all be huddling in our homes against a bitter cold. But autumn is the season of perfect nights.
So tonight songs and stories and laughter circle a fire under a dark sky and bright stars outside my cabin. The sounds of my friends rise and fall to the pulse of their own merriment. Someone is playing a guitar and his friends follow along in song. And when the songs fade then tales of fishing and hunting are spun amongst the flames. Tall tales, every one. The air is tinged with chill but the fire is warm and the stories warmer. And the drinks are warmest of all. Autumn night, perfect night.