The sounds of fall

The summer into fall transition is always bitter sweet. Summer is my time in the sun, to rejuvinate and dance, eat strawberry shortcake for the rest of my life, bake on the beach, and cruise through a pile of trashy books. These days in my windowless office, disconnected from the elements and changes in season, I brace myself every day when I step outside my office building at the end of the day, forgetting what time of year it is. The only thing that has remained constant for me through the years is music. My head just seems to wrap around certain sounds more readily at different times of the year. I know it's the end of summer because of the bittersweet sounds coming out of my stereo. David Grey is mixed with Powderfinger, and on especially gray days, Beck's breakup album. I don't know what possessed me this morning, but I found myself singing words to a song I haven't heard in a million years. "It's a bitter pill, we swallow here, to be rent from one so dear, we fight for justice and not for gain . . . . oh hold me now . . ." I'm not depressed, I swear on every George Carlin album ever made. But the colder weather and the rain always seem to make these sounds comforting to me. The birthday season is over, the last crumbs of cake are like the last leaves clinging to windswept branches. Okay winter, do your worst. I've got my music, a fire on the hearth, and all the patience in the world. Just like the heat of summer, you too will eventually fade.