As she walked purposefully toward the hill crest the leaves didn’t crunch underfoot, they whispered. Still their message was clear.

Respect the passage of time.

Diana didn’t need the reminder though. Everywhere she looked the delicate balance of life and death was being played out for all to see. Healthy feed corn on withered stalks. Vibrant colored trees dropping leaves like rainclouds. Even the air seemed to spin with wild abandon from sunlight warmed to bonfire perfumed icy breath.

She like the manic feel of Fall. The frenzy of soaking up every last dappled drop of light before night overtook day. The rush of completing each autumnal event on the list. Apple picking, check. Pumpkin carving, check. Cider mulling, double check. Each outdoor activity fighting off the not so secret fear of a pending winter. To Diana euphoria tempered with melancholia was the ideal mindset for this moody season.

From August through November she had watched the world change before her very eyes with each storm or frosty morning. Finally, perched at last upon her vantage point the whole of Diana’s small town was laid out before her. It was quaint, her town, filled with a bright history, like so many others, but it’s future was shadowy at best. For a moment it seemed to Diana that she could see both past and future in that panorama. For a second the frenzy gave way to clarity.

Seasons change, tides turn, and time marches on.

In the face of such certainty Diana felt easy for the first time in months. We are all in this together she thought, looking longingly over her shoulder jealously wanting to hold on to her moment of peace, during dark winter nights and balmy summer days… only time would tell which way the balance was falling.

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