October -Nature's Artistic Reminder That This Too Shall Pass

 "First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys."

So begins Ray Bradbury, and every year when I reread Something Wicked This Way Comes, I’m reminded why October is unlike any other. It’s half-magic, half-melancholy, and it always manages to tug me in both directions.

The first cool mornings arrive, and I resist them—I want to stay curled in bed, clinging to summer like a child holding the last candy from the fair. But nature doesn’t bargain. She tips her brush into fire and gold, sweeps it across the trees, and whispers, ready or not, here I come.

She’s merciful, though. Just when I’ve given up on warmth, she offers Indian Summer—those odd days when the air turns heavy and we’re sweating in October, while leaves crunch beneath our shoes. And then, as if to apologize for the trick, she gifts us pink dawns, crisp nights, the last songs of crickets before silence falls.

That’s the rhythm of it: beauty, loss, return, farewell. Nature easing us toward the bare bones of February, when winter’s charm has long since worn off. And if you need a reminder that life moves on—that nothing, good or bad, ever stays the same—just look to the seasons.

So tuck a little October into your heart. Keep it for the heavy days. The carved pumpkin grins, the scent of soup on the stove, the sharp sweetness of burning leaves, the trees dressed for their grand finale. Let them remind you: life is harsh and beautiful, chaotic and serene, but always turning. Always carrying us forward.

Happy Fall, y’all.