Black and Gold

I have to confess I have an abiding fondness for autumn. Charcoal blue brooding clouds with blusters of wind that loosen red and gold leaves to the air, a heady-ness of earthy smells mixed with wood smoke.

I think back when I was living in California, there were no seasons. I didn’t recognize what it was to have seasons until moving to Canada, it was intoxicating and I know I would miss them if I moved back to a perennially warm climate; the monotony of evergreens and cloudless smooth skies.

The anticipation that comes with spring, its thrust of newness, the full green hum of summer, and autumn’s stormy shake down to the barren stillness of winter, these changing faces of the year that quarter the passing of time, I love them all.