October's red and gold leaves have spent their colors and are swept brown and dry along the fence rows; sharing space with thistles parachuting their seeds into the wind. The quiet time is at hand. The fall rains will bring a rustling in the leaves and a gentle tapping at window panes. In the distance, we can see Winter, his icy fingers beckoning, standing with the wind whipping his tattered and threadbare overcoat and his chill breath blowing. This is a time for reflection and thanks, and a harvest time for our thoughts. This is the best season of all.