Ready or not, fall has come. Sometime last month, despite my ardent objections, summer decided to pack it in and autumn began to fill its vacancy. I’ve stubbornly continued to listen to Jack Johnson songs and wear flip-flops, even as I’ve watched the foliage on the Oquirrhs subtly morph from a green tapestry to a tie-dye blend of yellow and orange. Just as I was enjoying what seemed to be a gentle transition, fall decided to announce its full arrival last weekend with gusto.
Don’t get me wrong — I actually love autumn. It’s just that I’m freakishly in tune with climate — it seems to bleed into every nook and cranny of my psyche. The transition from summer to fall is usually jarring — like the shock of diving into a High Uintas lake, minus the brief loss of consciousness. Fortunately, once you’re in, it’s rather pleasant.
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