And follow.

it's fall. it's been unseasonably cool here in san francisco, and i have been loving it. in fact, the marked change of season – san francisco's rain and chill and fog – are almost enough to make me forget how spectacular autumn in new england is.

but not quite.

autumn in new england is almost everything i loved about growing up. the air smells sweet, full of ripened apples and burning leaves and by nightfall you can sometimes catch the slightest scent of snow.

the colors, of course, are amazing. experiencing the mutable foliage in new england is like watching a temper tantrum in slow motion. it's as though the trees are angered by the changing season, and turn several fiery shades in protest. but as with children, the tantrum subsides and eventually resigns itself to quieter tones. and soon the quieter leaves fall from the trees, asleep.

but i always thought the best thing about this time of year was that the drier, crisper days made it feel like something exciting was just about to happen. we all knew that september -- not january -- was the real start of the year because it meant back to school, and the air crackled with possibilities.

each year we'd be armed with new clothes and fresh, empty notebooks and we'd face a new configuration of schedules and classes and teachers and friends. what will it be like this year? i'd wonder, knowing that my fate was in september's hands.

so even now, even as a grown-up living in a city far from new england and even further from childhood, september will always be the sweetest month, forever alive with memories of things to come.

happy birthday, mom.

*****

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Follow, follow, follow...

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Follow, follow, follow...

Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Although you know the snow will follow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow.
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
And follow.

Follow, follow, follow.

--Try to Remember, from The Fantasticks