Fall Baby
We all have our seasons, the turn of the year experienced through our senses to revive our souls and commune with Nature. Many are summer babies, happy to bask in heat and rays for hours and hours. Some crave the crush of snow under their feet and shock of Winter air on their faces. Others bloom in Spring, weeping with the cheery blossoms and swooning over jasmine.
Though I appreciate all these facets, I admit that something comes alive in me during Autumn in a different way than any other season. I am happy when I get to experience ALL the seasons (why I live in Seattle after a childhood spent enduring one-note weather in the heat of a California desert), but once the air begins to stir that Fall brew, my existence moves in to clarity. I love wrapping up in more clothing, I love having cider heated on the stove at all times, I love playing classical music throughout the day, I love lighting candles at night, I love pouring big Italian reds and standing on the porch in Joel's arms as we breath in the fragrant change. Fall makes me want to do all the things I do - write, take photos, eat delicious things, sit by a fire and ponder things.
I was reading a very enlightening essay yesterday by Pema Chodron who spoke about how it is hard to accept one of the most inevitable human eventualities - our own death. Ours personally, not death in some abstract concept. But she mentions that death happens all around us all the time. Fall is a reminder of this to me with its audacious display of decay right alongside the great harvest. The paradox is sexy.
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