It's September.

Well.. yeah, for the past three days it's been September.  So this should not come as a surprise.  But it is September, fact.

Which is, for me, the best time of the year.  It's the transition month- in with the fall, out with the summer- when the world gathers itself up in a huge inhale, anticipating it's final exhale before the winter sets in.

It the month when the atmosphere begins to become dense- with learning, with storms, with expectation.  I've chronicled my romance with the fall on many occasions- verbally and in writing.  Over and over again I have spelled out it's nature and it's presence in my life.  Over and over and over again.

This year is no different.  The winds shift (endlessly here in Norway, but more meaningfully this month), the colors change, and life begins to quiet down.  Or, if you're me, life gets a little louder as anthemic music pours from the computer, car, iPod, any place it could possibly come from- because this is my time, my month, and I will celebrate it however I like.  The sounds and the songs remind me of footloose and fancy-free and a time when youth wasn't a thing, it just was.  I just was.

I hear a voice and it tastes like candy corn; it smells like bonfire and smoke.  It feels like a memory come to life- vibrant and fleeting and fast.  It feels good, and strong.  I feel less good, and less strong, but the season is just ramping up.

It's September, and September is my month.