The falling leaves, harvest moonlit scents drifting in on cooler breezes.
Blustery days when a scarecrow tries to tear himself from the field to be free.
Round orange pumpkins sacrificing themselves to be Jack-o-lanterns or maybe they look forward to being on display, however brief.
Sitting by a fire, covered in a flannel lined ancient quilt, edges ragged but still warm.
Sipping a mug of cider made from crunchy red apples.
Wordle #341
The Bag Lady 
I love the “rustles” bones. And the image of the scarecrows in the wind as trying to break free!
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Thanks!
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I always felt sorry for the scarecrow even knowing it was not alive😄
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