Fall has always been my favorite season. It's colorful, and bright, and crisp. Even when it's cold or rainy, I love it. Once, in elementary school, the teacher asked us what the saddest season was. I said winter, because everything is cold and dead and blue. She insisted that it was fall, because everything is dying, and that winter is not as sad because everything is already dead.
To me, fall has always seemed like one last party before winter. The wind whips the brightly colored leaves into the air, swirling them around and around. The skies are clear and bright, bluer than they are at any other time. Clouds are light and high in the clean, crisp air. Even when it rains, and everything is grey except the sad, washed out leaves, I still like it. Better than the muddy swamp of spring, anyway.
It's been cold the last couple days, and it feels like fall has really hit us. It doesn't last long, and I plan to enjoy it while I can.