Transitions.

When I stepped outside this morning, I was startled by a distinct change in the air.  It wasn't chilly, exactly, but it certainly wasn't as hot as it's been the past few months.  There was a certain briskness, and the faintest hint of a smell that made me think, it's going to get cold.

The discovery was exhilarating, because I love fall, the gentle transition from balmy to biting, the metamorphosis of the leaves, the rituals that everyone, even the animals, goes through while preparing for the chill to come.  It was also somewhat bittersweet, readying myself to say goodbye to a summer that has been so beautiful, and so good to me.

I've never adjusted well to change.  My mom says that when I was very little, I would notice small modifications in our house, such as a moved piece of furniture, and cry and fuss until everything was returned to the way it's always been.  Change doesn't make me as sad anymore, but I am still very sensitive to it.

I am definitely looking forward to wearing fall clothes again.  If I could live in a uniform of dresses, sweaters, stockings, and boots for the rest of my life, I'd be perfectly happy.  So, change can be good.

See, I'm learning.

Roscoe, the neighbors' cat, snuck up on me just as I finished this post, and scared the bejeezus out of me.  I forgive him, though, 'cause he's kind of adorable.

Sweet thing.