It is the sort of, almost mythic fall day one dreams about. Some trees have been stripped bare and are beginning their winter slumber. Most still wear their autumn garland of color. A few leaves remain stubbornly green, refusing to succumb to the diminishing daylight. The sun at this late hour, at this time of year low in the sky, sends a shaft of bright warmth down the canyon formed by the highrises which line each side of our lakefront street. The warmth tempts the students, recently arrived at the nearby college, to run shirtless to and from their lakefront jogs.
In the playground children run about in their seemingly aimless fashion. Yelling, giggling, their sweet innocent faces express the joy of playing outside on this beautiful day. Soon this play will change. Shorts will give way to long pants, heavy coats, hats, gloves and scarfs. It will be a season of snow. Sledding, snowmen and throwing handfuls of powder into the air to watch it float down around them, or forming it into balls and throwing them at each other will be the order of the day.
But, for now, there is the warm sunlight, gentle breeze and peace and contentment that come from experiencing a glorious day.