Autumn

Isn't that a lovely word? Autumn. It wraps itself about your mouth when you say it. The word is older than Chaucer, newer than a young girl's name. Third season of the year, filled with maturity and harvest, a harbinger of winter's dormancy and renewal.

Autumn was a trickster this year, springing itself upon us after fooling about, hiding behind the skirts of an October summer, then suddenly leaping out with frosty nights and color tinged trees and dry leaves blowing about. And rain - raining on our hopes of the mild weather continuing, jerking us from our lulled contentment of hazy days and blue skies.

I love fall rain.

It is not the bone chilling, ice melting, crocus forcing harshness of spring, a merciless parent demanding that we get out of our winter bed.

It is not the comfortably splashing, earth drenching, tomato plant growing coolness of summer, a playful companion enticing us to dance in its showers.

Nor is it the snow sifting, ground-blanketing merciless blizzard of winter, locking us in, plaguing us with cabin fever.

Rather it is that gentle, predictable, air cleansing, drowsy bedtime-bath, umbrella patter that draws us into solitary walks on country roads, gives us space for reflection, for clearing the mind, for breathing deeply. Neither too hot nor too cold, it braces us with just a touch of chill, delights us with gorgeous, wide-open vistas of mountains and color-filled carpets of trees, providing us with just enough daylight to walk until we tire, working out the kinks and bringing sweet deep sleep.

I love autumn rain.