I have been meaning for some time to make a post about the changing of the seasons. While in many parts of the country, the excitement of the transition into Autumn has worn off long ago, and it is time to look for snow and ice, here in Texas, we are just coming to the end of the long slow burn.

When I first moved down here, I was desperately unhappy that the seasons did not follow the pattern that I was used to growing up in New England (my husband likes to call me a snob for this). Only this year, my fifth Fall in Texas, have I begun to understand and come to love the particular rhythm that governs the change of season here.

I think seeing it through Daniel's eyes has helped immeasurably in this respect. Our daily walk takes us over the same path, and I have been at leisure to notice the subtle changes and the way things come to fullness over time. His fascination with acorns, pine cones, the brown coarse leaves on the ground, and the copious mud from the rains that finally return after a long, inhumanly hot summer has let me be fascinated with them as well.

The colors are not so overwhelmingly glorious and abundant as in New England. Everything is more muted, the transition more gradual. But there are falls of golden leaves (which remind me of the shower of gold poured out in Danae's lap), and red berries, and deep purple oak leaves, and -- delightful in their unexpectedness -- yellow jasmine and crimson roses!