For as long as I can remember, I have always hated this time of year. It likely goes back to my youth and starting another year of school. If that wasn't bad enough, things gradually wither and fade as winter grabs the environment in a stranglehold until it gives in. Those handful of months are like a slow death until spring comes and life begins again.
While this summer has been blisteringly hot and dry for so long, it is preferable to the coming season. Not by much, but enough to edge out in a photo finish. Knowing what is coming becomes a fight with depression and I put down my weapons long ago.
The days grow shorter, the air gets colder and the breeze that would have been nice in the summer finally makes an icy appearance reinforcing its presence several months too late. There is absolutely nothing to do but face it and accept it. It is the proverbial bitter pill to swallow without a chaser.
It all makes me appreciate the fact that I wasn't born in these months. Even though my own birthday is often encased in a block of ice and frigid temperatures, it is marginally better than these months of decline.
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