Fall, my most favourite season of the year has kicked into full force. It is mostly characterized by a changing, unpredictable weather along with beautiful leaves falling onto the ground. Everything about this season is like a deja vu for me, and every step reminds me of what it was to take them just a year ago. It also presents a problem of writing about it without being unnecessarily repetitive. The leaves are the same, all brown and ever present like dry concrete tears of the dying season. The cold is the same, and the air still smells like harmattan from a faraway place, and all that would it would take to make it similar to an equally stimulating experience in the autumn season in Jos Nigeria would be rain, and total dryness.
The dying here is gradual, and equally beautiful, depending on where one is: driving by the Mississippi river on the way to Principia or riding a bicycle to school through a long path of trees and a charming lake. What can never be said enough is the sweetness that accompanies every breath taken in the cool sun of October, except of course one is standing under a set of trees where hard dry nuts are also falling down in droves.