On the hill, tucked away and quiet, sat a chapel.
And around that chapel, there were trees rustling, whispering of Fall. A thousand leaves showed hints of cinnamon and traces of clove beginning to fringe their edges. Wheat grew tall next to the path as if to welcome, to outline this perfect piece of earth.
And it was here that they stopped while the rest of the world bustled on.
It was here they said their vows.
Here they breathed deep each other, this space, their day.
It was here he saw his bride.
Here she took her groom.
Fall began to paint the scene that day.