It's coming here, slowly but surely. Despite the 80-degree days, it's coming along. Leaves are changing and drifting to the ground in golden piles with fire colored leaves--orange and smoked ruby--peeking out in the gold mass. Those still clinging to the trees are paling and the fruits are ripening and becoming heavy. Days are shorter and mornings are cooler and wetter, and best of all, the mountains are visible in their enormous majesty. It's times like this that I actually remember I live in a valley.
I take comfort in the eternal (as much as anything is eternal) march of seasons. The rhythm is warm and gentle and I love that after the long blaze of summer days.
I end up having sort of philosophical bent in the fall and all I want to do is pull out my sweaters, drink hot tea, and sit in the sunshine, preferably outside, while the breezes drift in from the country side, bringing the smell of bonfire smoke and crisp mountain air.
But I'm not going to lie, going swimming in October is something of a pleasant novelty.
I take comfort in the eternal (as much as anything is eternal) march of seasons. The rhythm is warm and gentle and I love that after the long blaze of summer days.
I end up having sort of philosophical bent in the fall and all I want to do is pull out my sweaters, drink hot tea, and sit in the sunshine, preferably outside, while the breezes drift in from the country side, bringing the smell of bonfire smoke and crisp mountain air.
But I'm not going to lie, going swimming in October is something of a pleasant novelty.
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