While growing up in the hot and steamy South, I loved autumn and its coolness, and you’d think that after Seattle’s oven-like temperatures and dangerously smoky skies this summer, I’d be looking forward to autumn. Wrong. I’m already counting the weeks till spring and wishing I could move to Buenos Aires for the next six months and enjoy spring and summer all over again. Perhaps I’ve changed (emotionally?) but fall feels sad this year; I reckon it’ll be dark, sodden, the beginning of The End — the interminable winter months.

This year I’m going to avoid sentimentality, Japanese death poems, lethargic piano music and drama (I won’t be stoking my self-pity). I’ll tackle my negative autumn (and winter) moods with fun things…

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