It’s that time of year again. The long hot sticky days of summer are finally fading into the memory of another year. Autumn is a promise on the distant horizon, but now finally close enough we can see its slow approach. Nights are cooler, breezes are more gusty and in a couple of weeks apples will once more be the highlight of festivals in my region. Leaves will soon turn their vibrant colors. The State Fair is just around the corner.
That means pumpkins, morning frost and the holidays will be not far behind. Once summer has loosened its hold and autumn is free to frolic is my favorite time of year. Winter will soon enter the scene as one season gently gives way to another. And each are a resplendent time to read a book. Or several books.
The kids are back in school, yellow buses weave around the roads on their daily trek, community college brochures fill the mailbox. The time is ripe to increase our education.
Reading great literature is a fine way to increase our education. Reading most any quality literary work can do fine things for our education. It can teach us things we never knew, make us think outside our normal parameters, transport us to places and planes we have not been to and introduce us to people who already know what we did not.
So while I whittle away the last remaining days of summer stickiness, I write and read. I dream of the approaching fall season, destined to arrive just like the dependable schedule of a bus, train or ferry. I gaze upon the mountains rising above my home and wait for the vibrant colors to change the landscape into flaming torches of life.