Along The Line of Smoky Hills

It's Fall or, as Starbucks spells it, Pumpkin Spice Everything Season. I love this time of year. It comes a little sooner than usual, up here at the northern edge of Central Alberta, and doesn't last as long but it's all the sweeter for it. The days are bright and clear, the leaves are a brilliant yellow sigh on the wind and the nights have a crispness that remind you that winter is coming

Edmonton, The City Beyond The Wall

I have always had a fondness for this season. Not just because it smells fantastic outside but also because the days and nights are the perfect length; not so long that you have trouble believing your clocks and not so short that you feel rushed into or out of the sheets. The air isn't hazy from summer's heat anymore so the horizon, and Alberta has a lot of horizon, seems close enough to touch. Sweaters and jeans are so much more flattering than shorts and tank tops, and every child suddenly seems to own at least one corduroy item, which is only the world's most adorable fabric.

Is anyone else hungry? Because I could just EAT these.

There is a special feeling I get in the Fall, like receiving a real letter from an old friend.  It's not quite joy, although that is part of it. And it's not quite sadness, but that's in there, too. It's a sweet reminder of beauty and life, but also of the seasons gone that can't be recaptured. 

It's in the Fall that I lay out my regrets and examine them, one by one, snapshots of things I meant to accomplish and just... didn't. It is also the season in which I decide which regrets are the ones I intend to do something about and which ones are going to be swept up with the fallen leaves and used to plant something new instead. Fall is my New Year, my season of resolution, so much more than when winter holds everything immobile and frozen. This Fall, I resolve to be more adventurous, to be braver. To stand up to bullies. To love more, even if it's Tuesday. Especially if it's Tuesday. 

And to forgive Tim Hortons for their Pumpkin Pie Latte, which I am certain will be in their pile of regrets next year.

Say you're sorry, Tim,  and we'll just forget this whole ugly business.