Today marks the turning point from summer to autumn, though the trees abide by their own calendar and began announcing this change last week.  The air, too, brought autumn before September 22 when last Thursday the temperature dropped below 30 and frost settled on the field.  We have one cord of wood stacked, another pile to chop, and more to pull from the standing dead trees at the edges of the field.  I love the cozy nights and mornings, and the days that still warm up enough to shed the layers we don in the early hours.  I love the way fall boldly embraces transition, how the mountains glow and seem bigger, how autumn throws beauty across the landscape and splatters color like a child flinging paint onto paper.  I love this season, how it won’t settle for whispers, but demands us to burst forth as well, and to just as boldly announce our light to the world.