Okay, so I know that I've written about this ad-nauseam, but the transition has always meant so much to me and as I'm transitioning in my life my feelings toward the seasonal change have changed as well. 

   When I was a small girl I used to like summer. I didn't mind the heat or the beads of sweat that came with the long days of sun. And though I really looked forward to buying school supplies and doing school shopping, I remember always dreading the end of summer, because it meant I would have to go back to school. Though I enjoyed learning it was the idea of being cooped up and having to pay attention to my teacher every second of the school day that bothered me most. 

   And then, some time in middle school, when the long hot summers started to bother me, I would pray for fall to visit early. As I got older my thirst for colored trees and cool air only deepened and I took to heart the mornings when the hillsides were covered with mist and the grass grew long and verdant in the winter and spring time. Fall meant the coming of the rainy season and with that came big white puffy clouds and sweater weather and clean air; the rain would literally wash all the smog away and Angelenos were left with the beauty that is Los Angeles: city of hills and valleys and dramatic spans of blue sky and buildings and at nighttime, velvety navy-black sky and crystal clear sparkling lights. 

   Now, though I enjoy the fall in Portland, and the autumn colors and four (three) season weather is why I moved here, I find myself coming full circle, pleading for summer to stay and to stretch on.  I know that with fall the leaves will change, something I love, and the wind will come, but so will the rain and especially the gray, overcast skies. At this point in my life I'm just not ready to part with the sun, especially since we just got it back two months ago.