There is an air of autumn whispering around the lake where I walk/run. In splendid sights as the golden hour progresses, spots of these trees have changed colour to match the expectation we seek in autumn. But here we are, in the depths of winter, and our southern confusion of seasons entails our imagination with images of the past. Or so, in our mind, we think.
Life sometimes doesn't match our expectations. I supposed it would make sense that seasons don't even match our expectations. Here is where we need to be open to what it is telling us. Warm days give way to cooler nights. Enjoy the fluctuation now, because it won't always be this way. We step outside and sometimes it feels like early summer. We step outside a few days later and it feels brisk, so we wrap up. Nature has a way of being finicky this time of year. I hold onto the hope that it will bring the cold air of the north. But it is a short-lived season, and then I must wait.
The leaves crunch beneath my sneakers as I go along the sidewalk. I hear the wind come brushing along the surface of branches. I glance across the lake to my Alma mater. I think about how I love this city, and the good ways in which it is growing and changing me.
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