By Mary Friedel-Hunt
It is Sunday and it is hot. I took the dog for a walk at 11 a.m., thinking it would not have heated up yet. But alas, the humidity and the temperatures drove both of us back home to the comfort of our air-conditioned house. I hear people complaining about the heat and in the winter we complain about the cold. In the spring we complain about the rain and mud. I rarely hear people complain about autumn except to mention that winter follows in its tracks.
Autumn is perfect as far as I am concerned. Flowers are still blooming. Trees are in full color. The