It’s finally raining. I need a sweater when I go out in the morning and a blanket at night. My mind feels fresh and alert after the numbing of the endless blue skies and the heat of the sleepless nights. Fall has always felt to me as a return to myself, even when I was too young to put this into words. Picking up wild chestnuts while my grandfather was holding my other hand. The first rainy days, the foggy, misty mornings, the golden light, the reds, oranges and browns in the park. Of course that every new season is good for your soul, the joy of the first snow, the high of the beginning of summer, but for me nothing is like the gray skies and the first leaves on the wet asphalt.