When the days turn short in light and long on grey, melancholy slips into the psyche of some. Maybe it's the essence of death as winter approaches with its closure for certain flowers, leaves, and even life.
I also like to say I was born on the first day of fall and hope to use it one day as the opening sentence in a novel. I don't know the intricacies of why the first day of fall rotates dates, but I was definitely born on the first day of fall which is now my second favorite season – or perhaps tied with summer.
I do get the blues as fall approaches. There's a certain emotion, sensuality, and supreme melancholy accompanying fall's arrival. For me, it only lasts a little while. I accept the shortened days, the long nights to come. Each season has its own mood.
Where I'm from we get the spectacular shades and colors of autumn to offset the creeping malaise of winter's barren trees. And we have evergreens to remind us that once again green foilage and vibrant flora will return in technicolors.
My husband and son share that somber adversity to lost light. Me? Only for the onset of fall. Then it's just the season, that in-between one, and on to Thanksgiving and the joys of Christmas.
Loss makes any season dreary. For a time. Tears seem to overflow. Surprise us in their volume. Will the sadness ever stop? Yes is the short answer. No is the long answer that eventually leads to yes. Here on earth, the answer is no. Perpetual living and dying transpire. In heaven, the future answer is yes – if we choose the road to that holy place. A heartbeat away, yes awaits. How many more we each have – who knows but the One who gave us life?
Today: I'm just sad.
Lord, I know your comfort. Over and over again you've provided it. I still need it. And will continue to. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Into the Fire 
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