I prefer to call it Autumn – just a nice word all around. And that simple question set my mind off because I like everything about Autumn.

Autumn feels like home. Not that it reminds me of any place I have ever lived, Autumn IS a place. A physical place I inhabit,  it is home.

It is so easy to wax lyrical about the Fall – the colors, of course, how obvious. But the light – the light is different in the Fall. The sun is lower in the sky and the afternoons come sooner. The light is filtered by orange, red and yellow leaves. It is light that wraps itself around you and holds you close and dear.

The air smells crisp and clean, you can touch it and taste it – like the Autumn apples symbolic of the season. If by some chance, someone, somewhere, is burning the fallen leaves, the smell and wisps of smoke add a layer of warmth and magic.

A late afternoon thunderstorm – the sky a dark grey blanket, almost bare branches tapping at the window covered in wet and windblown russet leaves…It makes me feel protected and safe.

Some people find Autumn a little sad, they think of it as the beginning to the end – of Summer, of the year, of their lives.

September is my New Year and a time of beginnings, October, the grandest month of the year, is my birth month. Autumn is everything to me. It is me. It is my home. It is my safe place.

But I understand those who feel differently…

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