Steam rising underneath a canopy of whispering, changing aspens; starlight in the dear, dark night, and wondrous beauty in every direction. If only all could feel this way, to be so captured and enthralled with autumn.
Donna Lynn Hope
What is it about fall that makes it feel like being wrapped in a cozy sweater with a cup of something warm between your hands? It’s strange, if you think about it. This is the season of endings. Nothing begins in the autumn. The verdancy of spring and summer is over. The glorious colors the trees greet the season with are their final hurrah before hibernation. The spicy scent of fallen leaves and carved pumpkins, too, is one of dying. In fact, all of October, the month best associated with fall, is devoted to death and the horror that can come with facing your own mortality. Yet, there’s nothing more comfortable and lovely than an autumn day, as the temperatures chill and the world prepares for the long slumber of winter.
I don’t have any answers why this is. I’m not going to even try. Life needs some mystery; it’s what kindles the soul. Perhaps the answer lies in that.