Fall is calling. I can hear it in the breeze. I can smell it in the rain, taste it in the new fall apples, see it in the reddening leaves. I can feel it in the cold night air pouring through the open window as I cuddle warm under the blankets with my beloved.
It is raining after weeks of glorious sun. Boys grab rain jackets and go outside to play. I sit at the open window, taking pictures and breathing in the smell of my warm jasmine tea and the cool fresh air.
The boy's new boots are bright blurs as he runs around the yard, head back and mouth wide open to catch the falling rain. The little one wears cast-offs from his big brother, too big, soon left somewhere in the grass as he runs and falls and crawls in pink bare feet.
Fall is calling. My thoughts turn towards apple picking and fall baking, pumpkin pies and hay rides. Thanksgiving plans fall into place. Books pile high on couches, boy-turning-reader who still wants to hear them in his mother's voice. Stews and soups are set on the dinner table beside warm biscuits. The bright greens and blues of summer are replaced with yellow and orange, red and brown. I begin to knit a sweater.
Fall is calling, and I have come to love it.