Monday, February 12, 2007
Buckingham Village
When we pulled into the North George Mason Drive cul de sac on that fall day, I knew I was in the right place. The paths and grassy yard were coated with wet and still golden oak leaves, the air held a lovely chill. After two days in our Chevette traveling from Houston , I knew, at 11, that this was the real beginning for me. I might seem easily impressed, but, for one, I don't think I had seen fall leaves before. And my wonder did not soon cease.
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