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For me, the first of October marks the turn of the seasons. I’m a little strange, I guess, because I look forward to autumn and spring the way most people look forward to the summer months. The anticipation begins long before the first leaf turns, and by the time the date arrives I am almost giddy. My coffee even tastes better this morning!

I realized the other day that every novel I’ve written is set at the onset of autumn and resolves with the arrival of spring. This was not at all intentional, and must be a reflection of my own seasonal rhythms, perhaps some subconscious testament to my feelings about the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Intersting how these personal ideals and philosophies weave themselves so subtlely into the fabric of the story.

This little poem says it best, at least for me: