Chicago is a lucky city -- we get all four seasons in their utmost glory and extremes.

Fall is my season, my favorite of the four. It's my spring. This is when things change, when a sharp jolt to the head happens, snapping me back into a softened reality, after summer's warm kiss. Fall is the embrace that comes after, the inevitable.

There's a smell that my nose catches as I ride my bike through neighborhoods. Characterized by burning leaves, damp ground and the sharpness of the air around, it's a smell of familiarity and comfort. I ride down streets where families are having one last barbecue, the kids are running around in t-shirts for one last time and people are enjoying their porches, stoops and yards before it's too late and the snow arrives.

This is the start of change for me, when things always seem to fall into place. The colors of the foliage match my thoughts and I breathe deeply, temporarily, recuperating from summer's soft lips and relax into fall's arms before winter reminds me that there's a morning after.
-NH

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