The oak beyond the garden is brilliant orange. Acorns play percussion on the roof. Meteorological and astronomical calendars agree that autumn is upon us: pumpkins by the roadside, ragweed-induced sneezes, falling leaves, early nightfall.
Long ago I spent a year in Eritrea, where the seasons scarcely changed. We enjoyed sunshine with highs of 70° to 75° year round. I loved it! Here in Wisconsin, which has the same continental climate as Siberia (tropical summers and arctic winters), I’ve learned to delight in the fresh beauty of each season with only a passing regret for its losses and challenges.
Changing seasons of life are as inevitable as those of nature in Wisconsin. Would you stay one age if you could? I recall thinking 37 was just about perfect: fully a grown-up, not yet on the downslope. I don’t know if I’d want to have stayed 37, given the option. Since we don’t get to choose, I might as well relish the gifts of the season I’m in.
I'm a historian who writes novels and literary nonfiction. My home base is Madison, Wisconsin.