Every ounce of my being knows that it is fall. The light has shifted and fades ever faster. A few nights ago we were sitting around the dinner table and it was dark, fully dark at 7p.m. My heart ached in an expansive cavernous way, a way that feels the tug and fear of hibernation. I hold a deep love for the quiet, contemplative life a brutal winter brings, the focused studio time, the slow braising beans on the stove, nestling up on the couch with my girls, piled under blankets reading stories of great adventure. But I am not ready for it. Thankfully we have some time before snow, before boots, before woolen sweaters must be worn on a trip from bed to the bathroom in the middle of the night. So for now I am savoring the fading blooms of summer, savoring the beauty of golden light, the chilly mornings that turn into warm days and the flurry of festivals and activities happening out of doors.