Sorry, I wrote that elsewhere and fell in love with the sound of my own voice. Fall really is my time of year, though. It's the beginning of the year for me - not just because of the uncounted years I spent lurking about in school yards, and I think not only because of my natal day.
When the weather finally turns with that first coolness it's as though I'm waking up for the first time since summer began, truly waking up - the way I feel each day when ten and then noon finally passes and I hit the waking phase of my natural cycle. Oh yes, I can function in the morning, but it's always a struggle, and I pay for it by needing extra sleep. I can function in the summer, and the lazy cat part of me likes napping in the sun. But there's a lethargy that never quite leaves my limbs until we've crossed the equinox.
It's a border time, and so I love it. It's a time of magic and beginnings, life-in-death. Crispness and clarity, and eyes shining in the darkness. Others can have the spring - it's the fall that makes my heart beat faster, my blood run hotter. Perhaps it's one final burst of energy before the hibernation of winter. Perhaps it's simply turn and counter-turn. I'll play the shadow-twin to spring's white gown, caparisoned in black. O autumn, when the leaves descend and only the scaffolding of the world remains, holding up the moon!
Yes, yes - scratch a cynic, find the dreaded "R" word. Shoo, now, go on about your business. Leave an old woman with her cat.