Stolen Minutes

I stepped outside late yesterday morning for a run after we had finished with the housework and Saturday morning chores. As I walked up the driveway and inhaled, I was inundated with fall. The leaves lying on the road range from mustard- to butter-yellow. The wind carried a touch of a bite - just enough to keep me comfortable on my run. And the smell of the decaying of summer's bounty as all the foliage slow down unto hibernation or die as their season comes to an end is unlike any other smell on earth; perhaps the only time that death smells good.

It is on these days that the sun on my skin feels particularly like a kiss - of farewell.

I realized that we are just beginning the most difficult part of the year for me. I don't generally suffer from SAD in January and February like many other Canadians. I suffer as fall drops leaves and darkness descends with them. Winter's embrace is just around the corner.

I love fall; the incredible variety of warm tones in the leaves, the edge of cold in the mornings, and the warmth of a cozy sweater all bring me joy. Hiking is at its very best this time of year, except for run-ins with bears fairly often. I just struggle with the loss of daylight. For the next month I can literally feel minutes of each day stolen away into darkness. And it will continue until the winter solstice on December 21. That is when my SAD starts to lighten and I begin to really enjoy the beauty of winter.