Number Four.

Full on fall. Chilly days and frosty nights. There is that smell in the air, everywhere, of freshly fallen leaves decomposing in the crisp air that turns your nose red. It reminds me ever so much of home, and this nostalgic yearning for childhood I am so familiar with comes flooding back. The sound of the leaves rustling around footsteps, and the canopy of colour above is overwhelming and intensely beautiful. I keep thinking about this time long ago, when I was maybe ten years old. My Dad had been raking leaves in the back yard, and him and I both thought it would be fun to bury me in the pile. As I laid there in hiding, Dad went and brought my Mom outside, asking her if she'd seen where I had went.  I remember snickering in the leaves as she called my name in desperation, actually believing that I had run off. As she neared the pile I waited for just the right moment to jump out and surprise her.  To my disappointment, she did not find it as funny as I did. To me it was just a joke, a funny prank that neither my father nor I thought about too carefully. For her, it was the most terrifying moment in her life as a Mother. I still feel guilty to this day. I'm sorry Mom.

There's something about that moment that I want to go back to. Being buried in the crunchy leaves, playing in the yard with my Dad, comforting my mother in an embrace... the time when my parents were still together and I was still so small and naive; comforted by this protective bubble that kept reality and the world contained. I think we all long for that some times, and for some reason the fall is when it happens most. The changing of seasons, the instinctual preparation for hibernation, it is a time of reflection and reminiscence of past moments and memories. Before the spring comes and we begin anew.

I woke up early enough this morning to witness the frost covered grass. Biking to school I would break the top of the icy puddles with my tires, crunch the leaves underneath them. The birds chirping, I could see the frost on the trees evaporating like smoke from the sun's heat. The morning is so magical and not something that I see enough of these days. Living alone I find that it is difficult to get out of the house early. I can sip on coffee and check my email for hours. But this morning was enough to remind me of what I'm missing when I log into my virtual world, without checking out the real one. The sun is beginning to set real early too, around 5:30 p.m. at the latest, and it's only going to get worse. Daylight is of the essence.

Winter is coming.