Autumn means new beginnings. It’s out with the old, and in with the new. Leaves drip from trees, leaving crispy pools of warm colors that turn unto the earthy, sweet smell of fermenting seasons past.
Back home at the farm, baby calves are born with glossy pink noses that breathe in that fresh fall air, welcoming promises of new life and new seasons to come.
The fields are put to bed, and a new school year begins, and the children trade their greasy work boots and shovels for shiny new shoes and sharp crayons.
For me, this season has brought more new, and cast more old than any other time in my life. I miss the tiny school where my 23 classmates used to cut out paper pilgrims and turkeys this time of year. But as I push the button for the 20th floor, in the glass high-rise overlooking the Hudson River where I now go to school, I can’t help but feel excitement for the new beginnings I am in the process of exploring.