This fall has been hard.
Don’t get me wrong. I love fall. I love the bite in the air, the crisp mornings, my breath billowing around me in the dark when I ride to work. I love the leaves, even when they’re a slick and slimy mess. I even — right now anyway — sort of love the way it gets dark earlier, if only because it lends itself to that cozy feeling of snuggling down into blankets with a steaming mug of tea and maybe a book (though I’d be happy if it stopped here, if it didn’t get any darker at either end of the day;)
I love the nostalgia, and the hint of sadness even in the crazy, wind-swept, frenzied-electric air.
But this fall has been hard. And it makes me less excited about writing here, publicly, because if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all, right? (Ha! I don’t actually believe that, and I actually have many nice things to say, but you get the point perhaps.)
So as the season turns, it’s possible that my focus also turns a little, at least for a bit.
I dance in the rain and delight in the mushrooms and keep myself afloat…