It seems to be that there's a particular time when the autumn becomes not so much like the last lingerings of summer but more like the harbinger of winter. This is how it feels to me now. I'm seeing the skeletons of trees (as well as skeletons hanging from trees); the brush of frost on the rooftops this morning.
Thus the seasons turn, and with the turning, my experience changes. That is, to me, the the intriguing and amazing thing. My experiencing of life is not only different as I age and access ever-wider horizons, but year by year, as the seasons metamorphose, they have an effect on me. I can only compare it to a kind of breathing that I welcome and am grateful for... yes, even to some extent, for the approach of winter.
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