It is autumn. The trees behind my house are turning delicious berry and blazing orange hues. My thoughts are turning to cookies and fruitcakes and Christmas shopping. Then, despite the crisp, clean air the heaviness of the season wafts over me and I am transported to other times and other places and the memories of autumns past invade my mind. Autumn is my favorite time of the year yet it seems to be the most melancholy. This is the time when I do my soul-searching; it is quiet and still and I allow myself the luxury of closing my eyes and living in the past for a while. Only for a while, however, because there are cookies to be baked and shopping to be done so I must get on with it.