The Death of Summer

Autumn is a time of transition. Birds migrate, bears hibernate, and trees surrender their vibrantly colored leaves. I'm also forced to surrender. As the alluring sun follows the birds south, the world quickly becomes cold and dark. The liveliness of summer is but a memory. And left on the defensive, humanity hides from the cold, the snow, and the repulsively grey sky.

Some people seem to find comfort in this retreat, in the warmth of a fireplace, a fuzzy blanket, or a cup or tea. I don't understand that.