There's a rustling outside my window tonight, the gentle brush of a hanging fern against the glass, reminding me that new winds are blowing. It has been hot recently, but the weatherman promises rain, and with it, respite from the wilting heat. Autumn is approaching: the crisp, cool season of light jackets and pumpkin spice everything.
I like a change in season now and then. That electric, promising tension in the air. The anticipation of things that will soon make life very different.
It seems odd to say that in a season of dying, of falling, of darkening, that something is being awakened. Yet there's some magic in seeking small adventures on quickly cooling evenings that makes me feel so alive. I neither wither from heat, nor shrink in the cold. Instead every nerve, every fiber, every molecule of me is alert, tuned in, and ready.
For what? I don't know.
Change, I suppose. Change for necessity. Change for survival. Change for compliance, for pleasure, for sanity. For every reason and none. Change, perhaps, for the sake of changing.
As the days shorten and the chill begins to bite at our fingertips, slowly we, like the weather, will change. But as the seasons cycle, there will always be something to bring us back around to the beginning. To where we came from. To where we've been, who we've been. Around and around to another change of season.