sleepy drift of autumn

I like how we fall asleep in fall. Not Rip van Winkle style, but not that familiar nightly sleepiness either; rather, we slowly drift off to a slower pace of life.
I love that. As leaves and plants die around us, as bugs go dormant and squirrels search for sustenance to bury in their secret stashes, and as the warm air rushes out to make wind for the cold and leaves blustery days in its wake, we all retreat into our shells of indoor shelter, family time, and a slower, more carefree sense of self.

Every season has its own stresses and releases. Summer is warm, lets you blow off steam outside, and remains synonymous(often ironically, sadly) with "vacation." Yet, those hot days bring with them bugs that sting and bite, hot weather that suffocates even the most fervent outdoor enthusiast, and wet, wet, wet weather (here in the Northeast of course-- obviously not so much of a factor in other regions).

But fall! The weather is often wet, yes, but only temporarily so. The cold air refuses to hold the heavy moisture that tugs down the droopy summer air. We are left with crisp, even if wet, days that beckon even the most content coach potato to wander outside, even if the weather harbors menacing intentions. . . for instance, we had dinner with friends last night and mentioned how beautiful the day was. They stared in disbelief. Apparently, one town over, it thunderstormed all day. The sunny, breezy, perfect fall weather that lured us and our bicycles outside didn't shine 20 minutes away from us.

And this, despite its unfairness, is the beauty of fall. For every time that we end up under the rainclouds, we end up another time in the sun. While those stormy days might seem a waste in a summertime full of planed outdoor fun, those cloudy days invite a certain sleepiness of the season in the fall. I welcome the dreariness. It's somehow becoming to the character of the season.

I'm lost, full of dry color, in an autumnal drift. . .