Newport (again)

So, this is the third time we've lived in newport in the near decade that we have known each other. Although I rarely ever say, "oh Newport, how I love it there", I am surprized again by how much I have forgotten. The cold wind literally howls as it rushes past our third floor window. Grieving the loss of summer's bounty and the golden coat of autumn? Or maybe just the a whispered spell, or prayer of preparation "sleep, my pretty, spleep". In Rhode Island, we are hurtling towards the stark and chilly inertia of winter. I had forgotten how stangely beautiful it can be.