Saturday night I sat out by my garden watching the moon rise. The sun had gone down a couple of hours before and it was cooling off fast enough to need a jacket. The breeze was blowing from the west and it had a cold bite to it. I shifted my chair to a place where the house would offer a bit of a wind break, so I could continue to enjoy the solitude of my last few plants.
Fall has been my favorite season for a long time. I'm not sure that I've realized that before. I love the cool crisp air. The leaves change color. The stifling hot days of summer give way to brisk breezes that hint of snow. There are chores that have to be done before winter. Food to put up, wood to cut, little things that require doing now, so they can be forgot about till next year. Hunting season is a upon us. The elk bugle. The antelope are in rut. Waterfowl migrate. I long for the few days I get each year to walk the fields, mountains and forests with a rifle or my shot gun and dog. All the great romances of my life began in the fall.
As the days get shorter and the warm breezes fewer, the time out doors seems sweeter.