Now that the weather is changing and the trees are starting to shed their yellowed leaves, I'm really starting to miss the Autumn's in California. I grew up in a town that had the perfect weather, year-round. We had very mild seasons that seemed to blend together. It was as if we were in a perpetual spring or fall.
I loved it.
My favorite seasons are spring and fall. I love to watch the blossoms forming on the trees, and the new flowers and grass start to emerge. But more than spring, I love fall. I love the brightly colored leaves, the crisp air that is always a relief after summer. I love the smell of wood smoke and baking. Fall signals the time of year when all the great holidays arrive. It signals the end of summer, but also the end of many things.
But in Utah, fall lasts a matter of weeks. Most of the time the weather can't decide if it's really done with summer or not, and when it's finally decided, it's suddenly winter, and we're breaking out the snow tires and the big coats and the ice scrapers and the boots. There's no easing into winter here. It's just not fun.
But today I saw this tree, still struggling to not only hang on to its leaves, but to stay green. I feel a kinship to this tree. He knows that it's not time for winter yet. He knows that fall should last longer. He gets it.
I don't know what made me decide this tree is a "he."
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