A few wet, overcast days, then the sun comes out again. Only this time the sky is bluer, the sunshine is softer with more gold in it, and the air is noticeably cooler. The breath of fall can be felt, even though there is no shred of yellow in the trees yet.
September always has a subduing effect on me, as if amid the course of everyday hustle-bustle it tells me to slow down and contemplate. The beauty of fall, albeit resplendent, carries a melancholic note probably due to the winter desolation that lies waiting round the corner. For that reason I always find fall colors sobering despite their fairy-tale quality. In contrast, the beauty of spring is boisterous and inebriating because of the connoted full-blown life of summer. Trite but true, spring is a callow youngster while fall a mellow adult.
Oddly enough, while deservingly compared to the downhill part of life, fall also marks an important start for the budding young, which is back-to-school time. I can still recall the thrilling smell of new paper, the excitement of scanning the new textbooks to see what will be learned in my new grade, the first notes of the first lesson that I wrote down with extra care. Every year I grew up with new knowledge, starting in September.
It's now almost the fall of my life. Regardless of what's imposed by nature, I know there is still enough room for me to start something new in September. Like a new relationship, a new field of interest, a new project. Winter may be close, yet spring is just a bit further down the road, and by next September I will be holding something ripe and mellow in my hand which I do not have today.