It was hard to describe, and really, did he need to? He could feel the cool weather begin to settle in and the vague sense of calm that came with the beginning of the season, but there was this certain feeling, this utter sense of peace, that he could not seem to be able to put into words.
America looked out over his land and took in a deep breath, enjoying every second he had alone in this beautiful landscape. It was September, and that meant that summer was coming to a quick end. Alfred let his gaze drift to the sky and traced patterns in the clouds. They covered the whole sky today, threatening a drizzle later, but for now, the clouds created a wonderful portrait for any who looked up. The darker gray mixed with the lighter tones and set a pristine backdrop for the trees that were just beginning to show the true colors of Autumn.
It was hard to decide which season was his favorite, sometimes. It changed with the year. There was always something wonderful about every season, and he remembered what they were when that time came, and he was reminded of the beauty of nature and the gift of family. But this one time of the year, the time when the world is ablaze with color and the cool serenity of the changing season, Alfred truly enjoyed, and he knew that this would always be his favorite season.
Alfred let his mind wander back to when he was younger, back to the days where he was truly more free from duties and the world did not pressure him into a meeting every other day. Back when everyone was either a farmer, or a politician. Or, at least, that's what he usually only remembered seeing in those days. He would work on a farm, sometimes his own, sometimes a neighbor's. He would work all summer to keep up with the growing crops and then go into town in the evenings to do some paperwork before heading back to his large southern-style farmhouse. It was after summer, however, where the best memories came back. When the work was finished and the crops were harvested, and the children played freely in the cool sun and made dolls and forts with the falling leaves. Sometimes he would join the children, still being quite young himself, but work would always pull him away from the fun.
The times alone were the times he cherished the most. He would sit for hours just staring at the landscape, his landscape, and watch the leaves color the chill breeze. The feeling was always hard to place. He felt… right. It felt like home, and now that Alfred looked back on it, he remembered how at ease he was with the world back then. No pressuring world meetings, no needing to be a world leader, no real dangers lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to make one wrong move. Just, the still peace that comes with Autumn. And as he stared out over the fields of corn and soybeans, outlined by the wonderful maples and oaks of this area, he could not help but hope that this moment never ended.