By Leah de Roy I love autumn. I anticipate the first falling leaf the way an eight-year-old waits for Christmas morning. I’m one of those lunatics you might see sweating half to death in a wool sweater, scarf and boots on a 25-degree September afternoon, or dog-earing pages of seasonal dessert recipes from Canadian Living in the grocery checkout line. Yes, I have reached the extremities of your sweet-but-barmy neighbour. This may be expected behaviour for someone of post-retirement age, but not for a college freshman who should be nursing a hangover instead of a hankering for pumpkin spice loaf. For…
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