Fall, in all its splendor, is simply too short. As a kid growing up in the midwest, amongst the hardwood oaks that came ablaze every October, I grew a fond appreciation for this special time of year. And how could you not? It’s an ideal time for a kid, from leaves to school to football to ubiquitous free candy. I’m not too sure how spring got the whole “rebirth” reputation, but for me it’s fall when I feel like I’m coming back to life. When I moved to the high country of Colorado in the early 90’s, the autumn aspen simply floored me, but all it took was one strong windstorm and it was over. Done. Call it a fall. Hence the adage “fall is my favorite week”. It’s too true. I think it was just about the fall of 2004 when it hit me, that it might not be fall itself that I dig so much, but rather the aniticpation of what lies just beyond. Sort of like the closing prayer at the end of church…you think you like it but really you just like it because you know you’re just about to get out of church. Maybe fall’s the same way, in that it really is great and you really do like it, but in all honestly you’re psyched when it’s over, because we all know what happens when fall is over…we go skiing. So I guess when you get right down to it, fall, in all its slendor, is simply way too long.