Autumn is without a doubt my favorite season. It is the time of year when the world begins to grow quiet, life settles down, and the Earth prepares for sleep. The birds are migrating south, squirrels and chipmunks are gathering their stores for the winter, and the animals that hibernate are gorging themselves to put on the fat that keeps them until they awaken in the spring.

It is a time when I feel my own body slowing down, seeking to hibernate in my own way. I rejoice in the cooler days, in sweaters and jackets. I love those long pajama pants at night, and cuddling under a warm blanket. It is a time of reflection, of memories, and of joys.

Autumn, for me, is also a time of reliving sorrows. It’s interesting that in this most precious time of year, some of my deepest losses have occurred. My mom passed away in the autumn; my very special heart dog, Kai, as well.

Fall is also the season I was introduced to both of my great nemeses. In 2008, I spent all of October and part of November in the hospital suffering with Pyoderma Gangrenosum, an autoimmune disorder which still haunts me today. In October of 2020, as the COVID-19 pandemic was just ramping up, I was bitten by the tick that readers of this blog have heard me complain about repeatedly. Again, I faced an affliction that threatens to affect me for the rest of my life.

Yet, I still love the fall. I love the smell of dying leaves, and the way the hillsides are set ablaze by their demise. I love how harvest time eases into the holiday season and the celebration of family and home. I love to hunker down, my cat and dog beside me, a good book in my hands, or tangled up in yarn as I work on Christmas projects.

So, despite the sorrows brought by so many of its memories, I welcome autumn. Bring on the long sleep, as the Earth rests and nourishes herself to prepare her beds for the new life that will sprout in the spring