The Spanish used to refer to this part of Tejas as Comancheria, a place they themselves were driven away from. Inhabitants, it seems, have to be extra tough to live here.  The landscape burns and the air is hazy with smoke.  It is nearly Autumn, not in the soft sound of foliage, only in the fadedness of the sunlight.

Writing about Autumn is pure Autumn.  Here is someone else who is excited about the encroaching temperateness.

And if anyone should panic and flee northward to see some sugar maples, visit the William J. Bachman Gallery in northwest Indiana's South Shore Arts.  I've had three paintings accepted for the 68th annual Salon Show, the one juried exhibition I choose to participate in each year.

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