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If ever I wished a time could stand still, it would be during the Autumn season. I love everything about it except for the warning that comes with it, that winter is near. All the more reason to cherish it with all of our might.

We latch onto the last hot days. We are so tired of the hot, sweaty days, but then again, do we really want the cold? We wish we could bottle those hot days, to be released later in the year. Knowing the hot days will suddenly disappear one day, not to return for a very long time, makes us appreciate those last few remaining heated days.

As the heat retires, giving the position to the chillier, windy weather of Autumn, a sense of tranquility becomes the mood. People slowly accept summer's end and welcome the cool breeze. It is relief not having the scorching heat and soaked clothes. We know summer will be back faithfully, in its own season, for it has since the beginning of time. Meanwhile, people tend become happier. It is not too hot, yet not too cold.

Along with the temperature change, comes a splash of new color here and there. A little red here, a little orange there. The new colors trigger our thoughts and puts us in a different frame of mind. Our instinct warns us to begin preparing for winter. Fall cleaning, storing, and winterizing become the name of the game. But we shouldn't get so caught up in our work that we aren't savoring every pleasant day. They are short-lived now, and shorter from day to night.

Take heed. The beautiful scenery should be our main attraction. Autumn will have a peak and if we blink, we may miss it. It can somehow seem shorter than the grand finale we see on the Fourth of July. And as the Fourth of July has its own palette of colors, so does the new Fall spectacular event. Nature's Fall palette definitely had a designer. Oranges, from burnt-orange to Orange-yellow. Yellows, from buttery-yellow to butterscotch. Brick-red, fire-red, and Sequoia brown. The generous amounts of copper, bronze, and gold can make any man feel rich. The colors are so rich, in fact, that they become too rich for the tree.

Leaves slowly begin to trickle down, and the more they trickle, the louder the crunch beneath our feet. The children in us return, as we can't resist the urge to kick and frolic in the thickness of new groundcover.

But we are stopped by a new sound, an alarm in our heads. What falls down must be picked up. We suddenly see another chore to do. It doesn't have to be. We can choose to be happy- or not, and we can choose

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