We didn't run away exactly.
It's just that a long weekend was precisely what we knew we needed.
So we fled town on Thursday night, and slowly made our way south again on Monday.
Autumn in New England is just as it should be: chilly and resplendent.
The ground is a veritable carpet of rusty hues, ready to be waded and marched through in that curiously childish way we all cannot help but emulate even as adults. Crunch, kick, crunch, kick.
Once again, the lights inside need to be flicked on before dinner, the light outside dim and ever darkening. Soon, we can look forward to holidays, abundant food and twinkling lights. But for now, the immersion in all things autumnal helped to ease the ache of the impending winter.
So a bit of advice: to the rest of you who may feel the the great length of the winter season as deeply as I, take a weekend away if you can. If you can't, take a moment at home. Bake apple crisp, light a candle, or heat up a pot of spiced cider. Forge ahead, however you will. There is beauty, even in this.