Fall is on its way. On my way home yesterday, I passed a maple tree whose upper leaves were starting to turn a faint shade of orange. After months of heat and humidity, the air is dry and the temp is hovering in the 70s. It's lovely--I wish it could be this way all the time. There's something about fall weather that touches the soul. All those sparklingly clear days, when the sun is so bright and golden that it really does look like the world is glowing.
That said, I'm in complete seasonal denial, mostly about the fact that fall leads to winter. For a long time I honestly thought I'd be back on the west coast before winter arrived, but Boston is looking more and more permanent. As much as I love the change of seasons--something I missed terribly in CA--the thought of biting cold and endless darkness makes me recoil. When we're little, we're encouraged to explore our future vocations. But I'm 30 and when I grow up I want to be a snow bird.
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