Weaving Time In A Tapestry

It’s fall now, and I’m very happy about that.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about fall, and anticipating it. (I actually thought it started in early September, and was joyous about that until I looked up a calendar and realized the error of my ways. Alas.) Fall is, Christmas aside, my favorite time of year — there’s something about the earlier nights, the cooler temperature, the half light of the afternoon, that warms my heart. I’ve known this for years, although I forgot as I lost track of myself for awhile.

I can remember the feel of walking through my hometown when I was in high school, crunching fallen leaves underfoot and everything was notably crisp in the air as the colors faded as the evening began; this was all happening, and I was thinking to myself, this is my time of year. I meant this relatively literally, considering my birthday is in early October, but the older I get, the more I appreciate that fall is mine in other ways, too.

I’ve literally been looking forward to this season for a little over a month, now. There came a point where I had tired of summer, when the occasional rain storm felt like a gift from above (literally), and I was waiting, wishing for sweater weather. As the mornings got darker and later, I could feel the season approaching with unabashed eagerness: It’s coming it’s coming it’s coming.

This isn’t born of a love of pumpkin spice (I have none) nor a need to see Halloween merchandise in stores. Perhaps it really is just because this is the time of year I was born, but fall feels nourishing and renewing to me; a chance to take stock, look ahead and make plans for the future. Fall means renewal.

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