Autumn

What weather is there that compares to the fall? Warm sun and cool, fresh wind make it ideal for singing in parks. The warm days are like the tail end of summer, and they remind you to mourn for the lost freedom you had during that season. The cool days are like pure caffeine, and all you want to do is run and sing and all find the different fall flowers as you go. When I walk in the summer, I perpetually pick the flowers as I pass them, and compose verses about how wonderful everything seems. In the fall the flowers are more rare, and far more fine for their rarity. The cool air and chilling wind turn the wheels of my mind faster and much better than the balmy days of summer do, so the verses are a thousand time more joyful or sad than they were during the summer. On some days the wind carries in it a small taste of the coming winter, and the taste of the wind is clean and bright, and my lungs tighten and sting with the shock of it.

And then even the fall starts to fail, and the tall Illinois grass dies. The leaves that burnt bright red and yellow on their trees burn in piles on the ground. The crisp taste the wind had in the fall is replaced by the harsher one of the coming winter. Instead of the soft touch of the wind, the air hits my skin like a smack in the face. Despite how much I love the fall, the coming winter excites me. It is the promise of a coming challenge, and the promise of something to fight against. How easy would it be to let the winter steal my joy, and wait glumly for spring? I think it is far harder to keep such happiness alive in the cold darkness of winter. Last year the five month winter got the better of me, and by the end I was having trouble remembering what the trees looked like with leaves on them. This year, you can call me Fredrick if I let the coldness beat me so easily.