My old man remarked to me when I was just a kid about how the air smelled outside after the first hard frost. It’s the smell of things dying I guess, but his lesson was that its the sign of another cycle. I’m not sure why that stuck with me so much, but I think of him every year when I walk outside in late fall to sniff the air. I miss him.
But at the risk of being sentimental, I do love this time of year.
BKb