hint of death

It is a perfect Autumn day. The sky is a clear blue, enhanced by the crisp coolness of the chill wind, and dotted with numerous small, fluffy white clouds. Without the warmth of the sunlight it would be discouragingly cold. Melancholy threatens to seep into my soul, and though I would usually struggle to throw it off I realize that it is good and appropriate to mourn this time of year: the first hint of nature’s yearly death can be seen in the yellowing leaves, the shortening days, the cold breeze. Dying should always be met with sorrow.

It is equally appropriate that Thanksgiving should be celebrated during the autumn. Gratitude is a natural antidote to depression. And even though autumn will fade into winter, where death seems inshakeable and permanent, I know that eventually life will be resurrected and spring will come again. Thus I have hope, and I can revel in the beautiful melancholy of the dying world and the autumn season. My favorite time of year.