Looming in without a care, the greyish fog rolls in to my sleepy little town. The sunshine disappeared for the last two weeks, this is sure to be a sign for the beginning of Fall. Walking up the winded path that is my house, the smoky chimneys are appearing in the neighborhood. It is cold, but perfect weather for reading by the fireplace with a hot cocoa in hand. The mug decorated with cinnamon sprinkles, and whipped cream frothing at the top of the cup. Surreptitiously leering over the edge,careful not to spill but does. Cinnamon and spice wafting through the air and into our noses. I peer out the windows, looking for signs of color on the trees, squirrels preparing for the harsh winter to come. All that I see is greenery, dark wooden trees with fresh leaves sprouting and the occasional purple wildflowers. ” Is it fall?” I asked myself. Nope, it isn’t. I am duped into thinking it is. I have several months to wait for my favorite season. Alas, the month is June.