categories: Cocktail Hour / Getting Outside
I don’t love fall: the shortening days, the daylight-savings axe, the opening of troubling views through once-impenetrable forest, the birds of summer abandoning me, the regressive chores, the incremental turning inward. It’s a big breath in, and hold, and wait, like waiting for death, or at least December 21, when you can breathe out again, and the light grows. Then again, Fall. You don’t burn the leaves anymore, but still you can smell them. The kitchen’s full of food from the garden. It’s back to school, a rhythm I’ve never shaken.