I love fall the most. I love how the days become crisp as an apple, the trees turn a fiery shade of red, and everyone busts out the wool and knee high socks. The air hangs heavy with moisture, the vines heavy with grapes and squash, and my heart sings with happiness. Bonfires, caramel apples, hayrides and rubber boots. Muddy roads, piles of leaves clogging the drains, the smell of must and a soft grey sky.
Some people love the snow white winters, or the springs that renew us and give us hope, or the ultimate yang of a hot summer day bursting with activity and heart. But you can have them, for I love the fall. Give me the quiet inward spiraling and the settling in for the long haul. Give me the renewal and rebirth that this season promises, an internal renewal that asks me to look deep in my own darkness and assess my heart. I will answer that call, corn and squash in hand, wool socks on my feet, prayers spilling from my heart to the fiery trees to the soggy ground to the ever changing sky.