Upon meeting someone new, a love interest, for the sake of the story, it's not uncommon for the individual to ask that you tell something about yourself. I always have a few prompt responses in my hand of cards ready: the fact that I love the airport, or that I am by any and all means a cinephile. But the one I most like to share is that my favorite season (if I'm warranted to call it that) is the three week period during what you'll tag as 'Fall' each year. It's actually the last stretch of summer to the weeks leading up to Halloween that I enjoy most. When the leaves turn color and not one is missing from a tree but there seems to be an equal amount pushed against the curbs, risiding in the middle of the road and yards.
The three week period of fall that you might recognize by granting it's appearance to any number of home computer's default desktop picture, or the video cover of When Harry Met Sally. It's in these three weeks that you'll find your last fine round of golf, the same period when driving aimlessly seems to be the best idea you've had yet this year. When you actually step out into a bed of grass, the aforementioned leaves scattered, covering any lawn, bedecked in a smell that can only be associated with this very same three week stretch.
I'm saddened only because it's coming to it's end. More leaves are on the ground than above and it will be this way for a long, long time no doubt.
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