It seems to happen this way every year. I convince myself there will be benefits to be found in the post-summer season: warm days will still abound, trees will shimmer in multi-color beauty, and crisp air will bring renewed energy.
And then I see them as I did tonight. A scattering of leaves across the patio. Tree leaves with edges curled as though they died in some unimaginable agony. Only tinged in brown, robbed of an opportunity to go out in a blaze of color, these leaves are harbingers of what is to come. And I realize that no matter what hopes I hold we are spiraling into a period of barren branches, darkness outlasting daylight, and a cold that leads to a cataloging of every joint in our bodies.
It is for these friendless months of the year that the universe gifted us with adult beverages.
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