After an unusually warm Indian summer, it finally feel like fall. The trees are fluttering in golds, reds, and brilliant orange. The sky is a deep, vivid blue. And the air is tart as a newly bitten apple.
It's my favorite season. A season that will always be associated, for me, with new beginnings: a new school year, the whiff of newly sharpened pencils, new school clothes and the promise of a new beginning. This is the season that I met my husband, and fell in love. The season that we first walked hand-in-hand down cobblestone streets, under flaming trees and through the falling dusk. This is the season I gave birth to my first-born daugher. This is the time that I feel alive.