The air has taken on a considerable chill the past week or so as fall makes an appearance. I enjoy the season but there is always a part of me that dreads what is to follow. It is the same part of me that wants to just leave every year around December and not come back until it’s warm again, which could be anywhere between March and May depending on the year.
This is the cursed blessing of living in the Midwest. We have four distinct seasons, chock full of all of the best (and worst) parts of their respective descriptions. The chill is here now, the leaves are on their way across the color wheel, and rain is a nigh daily occurrence. Light is changing on both ends of the day, making for later mornings and vibrant evenings. It is a time for transition. A shift to the inevitable dying off to come.
And so it goes, we lose a little, we gain a little.