Falling for Fall

I am trying to stave off a cold. My daughter is sick. My students are dropping like flies. Germs abound and sleep is in short supply -- a surefire recipe for defeat.

Still, I love this time of year. Cool, crisp mornings. Sunny afternoons, perhaps with a hint of a breeze. Sweatshirt weather. The time of year when, depending on the time of day, I may need a blanket if I want to curl up on my patio with a book or my laptop.

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I have always loved fall. The juxtaposition of fresh starts against leaves in one final display of glory creates an energy that inspires me to make new plans. Optimistic, far-reaching plans that excite and that I foolishly believe I have the energy to carry out. Inevitably, they become part of the reason I succumb to the sleep deprivation that invites illness, but that doesn't make them any less fun to contemplate.

We all need a season in which to contemplate. To create new things with hope and a sense of complete possibility. Without renewal, life grows stale and we feel more like the crumpled leaves on the ground than their celebratory siblings on branches just out of reach. Maybe those plans will fade and wither, or maybe they'll spark something as long-lasting as the tree itself, nurturing generations of leaves to come.

So I will continue to plan. And if experience is any indication, I will make plans that tax my energy and patience, no matter how realistic they may seem at the start. But no one ever promised that life would be free of challenges.

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And along the way, I may just curl up under a blanket on my patio and take a nap. I'm going to need energy for all of those plans, after all, and I can't afford to get sick.