"Winter is an etching, spring a water color, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all."-Stanley Horowitz

 I am in love with autumn. Autumn is my flamboyant, fleeting lover. Mellow, mature, yet madly passionate, he teases me every year with subtle signs of his return. Even before the autumnal equinox, I sense him coming, as all about me nature is deftly getting ready for his revisit. I catch sight of the geese overhead, honking and heading south in their V formations, and watch the fidgety squirrels hoarding their nuts. I notice how the sunlight slants differently through the windows and the days become shorter. The skies wear a deeper blue, the clouds don a darker gray, and the sunset slips into a honey toned glow. Then colorful heaps of leaves begin to collect in the corners at my front door, like greeting cards and love letters from autumn.

Autumn is sensuous. I love the chilly "sweater weather," wearing soft flannel shirts and floppy wool socks and spending cozy evening hours cuddled by a fire. I'm crazy about the smells of autumn: the nutty tang of the woods, a hint of leaves burning, and pungent tree-ripened fruit at roadside stands. I love the tastes of autumn: steamy clam bakes, simmering soups, spicy chili, and hot apple cider. I love gazing at a bright-orange harvest moon, the crunchy walks, and the crispness in the air. Most of all, I love the delirious profusion of falling leaves. Wind tossed and irrepressible, across roads and lawns they tumble and scamper like overexcited children let out for recess.

The season is a festival for leaves. First the sumacs put on their lipstick red flush and the Virginia creeper vines adorn the trees with wine-colored garlands. Then the maples don their red autumn uniforms and stand like noble sentries along the streets. After the maples' brilliant display the oaks take center stage dressed in their swirling splendor of gold and crimson. Every day is one exuberant exclamation of bright yellows and oranges, deep reds and purple, celebrating the glory of creation.

But autumn is also the end of summer. There is a look of resignation to the garden and a sharp smell of surrender in the air. Once sturdy plants are now hunched over, pale and weak, offering their final fruits, and saying their farewells. "It was a marvelous party, darling, a stunning summer, we must do it again next year. Oh, is that a bit of gray I see on your crown? Yes, it does make you look distinguished." As it is a finale, it is also a time for reflection.

So while I marveled at the glorious autumn splendor, I began to wonder what makes leaves change colors and found this explanation from The World Book. "In late summer and early fall, a disk of cells slowly grows near the leaf's stem, gradually blocking the flow of water to the leaf. At the same time, chlorophyll begins to break down. As this happens, other vibrant colors previously hidden in the leaf are revealed." This simple definition deepened my love for autumn.

In autumn's portrait I catch a glimpse of the progress of my own life. Richer hues held unseen within the green leaves of summer are gradually revealed by autumn's bittersweet embrace. Despite hints of the harshness of the winter to come and the realization that summer days are a wistful memory, autumn is a wonderfully vivid and beautiful season of maturity. Amidst that beauty I find myself in the autumn of my years, gradually revealing a variety of amazing qualities that were once hidden and unknown, and adding new colors to the mosaic of my life.