Almost fall...

This is my favorite time of year. The leaves are turning. College football opened last weekend, nicely timed with the arrival of the first crop of Honeycrisp apples (the best way to blow $3 on a single food item). I have to turn the heat on in the truck in the morning or at night. The dogs have an extra zing in their step as the air gets a little more crisp. The damn pumpkin still won't produce, even though it's taken over the back corner of the yard and much of the garden. Obviously it's in no rush to save us some money and give us a couple giant pumpkins for Halloween. The smell of woodsmoke filters through the air randomly, giving the folks downtown an itch for burn bans probably. It's gold and cold and everything tastes better in the fall. We're still 11 days away from the official start but the seasons seem to turn earlier in our hearts than on the calander. This is the time of year when I trade cheap lagers for microbrewed dark lagers (big step!) and the grill for a soup pot. I listen to NPR in the mornings instead of KMPS and I leaf through fancy home magazines and wander off to bed at 10:00 instead of doin' it up until midnight or later. It's early mornings that feel like night and that soft sense of looming hibernation we all share. The wind blew in from the north yesterday, ruffling all the papers on my desk. That hasn't happened since last fall.

As the seasons click by it's hard not to wonder where the time goes. But now we have things like Facebook and Blogspot to track the time, to remind us where we were a year ago, or two months ago. And, even though I choose to not reflect much, if at all, on olden times, I like that the option is there. Although, somehow, and maybe it's the change of seasons, I feel way more at peace with today than I usually do. It feels more like an old pair of jeans than I am used to.

Last thing before I go to work. It's hard to believe that eight years ago those planes crashed into the towers and all those people died. Eight years. I woke up this morning to a man on the radio who had lost two sons, both New York City firefighters, in that tragedy. He was oddly at peace with it. He had the chance to one of them as he was riding to the site. Their last words to each other were, "I love you." It was a horrible and beautiful thing to hear, still groggy from sleep. He said that he wouldn't change anything. He spoke about the pride of both boys being firefighters and how lucky he was to have his last communication be words of love. If nothing else, this day should be a day to appreciate everyone in our lives. It's scary how quickly things can change. But, knowing that we love each other is what makes this time we have together as awesome as it is.