A specter of summer looms about though the children have started back to school, the sun is disappearing a bit earlier, and now Frankie and I only walk in the dark. The autumn is my favorite season. Something about the fresh crisp and darkening days of harvest and turning leaves and the way the old year dies has always spurred the life inside me.
There is nothing more glorious than a full moon in the first chill of autumn when the snakes all go to ground, the last battle with the summer biting bugs is won, and the burn of the sun lingers in strength. It is also the time when my creative juices flow at full capacity. Yes, I am pleased the summer is at its end.
For me, life exists somewhere between biting cold and stifling heat, long bright and short dark days, reality and fantasy, good and evil, kindness and cruelty, and living and dying. In the shadows is where I am found because it is there all great stories bellow and yearn to be told. There is no drama in places of pure light or utter darkness. Only when one opposes the other and creates the shadows where we all must dwell is there a tale worth telling, worth reading, worth heeding.