Thus speaketh the Walkin' Man.....

Moving in silent desperation;
Keeping on eye on the holy land.
A hypothetical destination;
Say, who is this walkin' man?

The lyrical strains of James Taylor always reminds me of fall.....

And we're getting to it.

It's been a lean summer up here in the great white north; not very hot (praise God) and downright chilly on some of these days. But here comes fall, faster than you can say Jack Robinson.

I love fall.

The leaves change color very nicely up here.

Corn. Especially the candy kind. I am a fiend for candy corn. I don't know why, and I'll admit to some revulsion, but I can't help it. And don't judge me; it's a minor fixation, and it beats the other fixations I've had in my life by a damn sight.

Fall is the pause between what seems to be the frenetic quality of summer, and the depression of winter. It's one of the two times in the course of a year that you can actually see change; it's the seasonal equivalent of the moment just before you doze off, and sleep the sleep of the pure.

That chill in the air is invigorating; it's a taste on your tongue that cannot be matched by ice cream, but creates the same exhilaration.

It's a time for reflection; a time to see where you've been, and where you're going, and in some cases, it's a time to realize that without a major course correction, you're going into the rocks there, Odysseus.

It's a time for new television; but I usually hate new television and stick to new episodes of old television. Old television is like the fall; it's a comfortable blanket, without those silly sleeves.

It's the season where Football, the World Series and Hockey all meet up for a smorgasmaboard of sports yummy-ness. Thank goodness for DVR.

So, as we move into September (and I realize that it's still about a week or so away, I look forward to the sensory gluttony to come.