Yes, I'm geeking out about the fall again.
It went from unseasonably cold to unseasonably hot. But that's autumn: schizophrenic, indecisive.
The leaves on the Midway now are gold, red, and green. I'm staring outside the cafeteria window, and there's a - sycamore perhaps? - with deep yellow leaves, standing proudly within the dormitory courtyard it is in. The ivy on the buildings here has started to change color.
I've started to breathe really well again (woodknocking, B"H). Autumn air is good for me.
There's something about the cold air that makes me happy. About the dying leaves, about the smell of fire and earlier nights.
So then I ask: who would like to celebrate the season with me? It would have to be after Yom Kippur, but we could meet on the lake, have some things with pumpkin and other fall foods, and appreciate the fact that we, perhaps, live in one of the most climatically beautiful cities in the world. The lake, the seasons, the drama of trees and buildings against the lake.
It sounds pretentious, but let's do it!