I love September. It snuck up on me a few years ago. It used to make me cringe and worry about dark days and school, but now it’s one of my favorite months. It’s still warm, yet the air changes into a golden, spicy, tangible hue. September feels like the hues of an Edmund Dulac painting to me:There’s something in the shadows. They’re longer and crisper, and the difference between golden leaves and dark hollows is more pronounced. I went for a run in the woods today and the valley smelled strongly of cedar and a sweet fruity smell like ripening apples. The earth gave a crunch and dust motes swirled. Autumn is making her way through the wood. I stood on the bridge looking over the canopy and little yellow birds flew from branch to branch. A bright golden bug swirled far away in a shadow. It caught the light and sparkled at me. I imagined it was a fairy. The spirit of fall waiting, perhaps.