Gray

The last leaf has finally fallen, and my heart heaves a huge sigh of relief.

Most days the sky is iron gray. The sight of bare gray branches against the gray sky is visceral relief. Why does this dead time of year make me so joyful? I am continuously aware of a lifting of the spirit. This happens every year with the dimming of the light, this elevation of mood and productivity.

It carries over into every part of my life. I am writing more, reading more, running more. I am more patient, more motivated, more enthusiastic about life. I am a better parent and a better friend.

Even when it's pouring rain, I'm happy and light. The constriction in my chest which begins with the first buds in spring and reaches fever pitch by August, is now totally gone.

I should winter all year round. Winter in the north, then winter in the south. I would be perpetually sparse and cool. I might fall into the beauty and never come back.