Call it Fall

All at once, Fall; how do the seasons change so quickly? They don’t, I suppose. They just seemed to change differently this year. Record high temperatures sapped the trees by late July and leaves fell prematurely. Green bleached to beige long before the remnants began the turn to redsorangespurples. And so the shift seems less subtle. Call it El Niño. Call it what you will. Suddenly, seemingly, rain pours down and temperatures plummet. Call it Fall.
As in grinning ear to ear while puddle jumping in a downpour walk with the dog. Hearing the wind whip through the window. Glistening drops hanging from each leaf of a tree. Stripes of daring color shouting out from a mass of trees. Horrid, muddy puddles challenging you to leap like a schoolgirl. Morning mists soft focusing even the most mundane days.
Such a literal season. As if to fall down. Fall into something, fall out of something. And just two letters away from feel. Because how can you not, really? Whether wonder, delight, depression, or whatever you’re prone to, how can you not see so much rain, so much change and not fall into feeling just a little bit more? Can you anthropomorphize the weather? If nothing else, it’s just so damn cathartic.
And I love it.