friggen fall, eh? i'm reading 'a moveable feast' by hemingway now and as life and coincidence would have it, he spends a whole passage talking about fall.
"you expected to be sad in the fall. part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. but you knew there would always be spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen."
i know just what you mean, ernest. but aren't the colours fine.