Louisa May Alcott, author of the brilliant 1868 novel Little Women, once wrote "change happens as surely as the seasons, and usually twice as fast". As a person who seldom enjoys change very much, I've always loved this quote because given that I simply adore the change of seasons, this poetic description makes all other potential change seem far more bearable and romantic!

Having spent almost four years in our current apartment, Steve and I have come to learn the inner workings of our neighborhood pretty intimately. We know the best houses to visit on Halloween, the best time to hit up Starbucks each weekend and where to find the best bargains during our annual summer garage sale. Like any other relationship, our neighborhood has it's little eccentricities that you develop an admiration for over time. One of the things that I love best about our neighborhood is that, for all the change that it endures, it has a certain rhythm to it that can be relied upon like clockwork. Like the cloudy, dark horizon before a storm, this rhythm, ironically enough, is usually the first sign that change is not far behind.

During our first year in our new home, as we were seeing our new surroundings in different light for the first time, we discovered that our neighbor's tree, who's branches hang in front of our living room window, was the very first tree to change colour each year!! It's truly the most beautiful red tree that I've ever seen and for a good two weeks, it stands alone on our street among all the other trees that still linger in the green colours of summer. It never fails that each year, sometime in late August or early September, either Steve or I will wake up one morning to the bright branches that literally seem to have changed over night...it's first sign that fall is on it's way!!

Shortly there after, the other trees on the street begin to follow suit. One by one, there leaves change colour and for about a month, we are all sheltered by a canopy of leaves eager to show off their vibrance to the world. Come October, the rain arrives. Darkness greets us earlier each evening and stays around longer each morning. The leaves begin to fall and orange pumpkins begin to show up on front porches everywhere. Our neighborhood is notorious for Halloween and children from across the city flock to our streets to join in the excitement. Little do all of those dressed up visitors know that their evening of Halloween spirit was a month in the making!! Anticipation takes time to build and our neighborhood is simply famous for it!!

Sure enough, within the first couple of weeks of October, the temperatures start to drop. The days are still warm and indulgent, but the nights bring a chill in the air that make you crave warm drinks and bulky sweaters. With this, comes my favourite ritual of all...bringing out our down blanket. Our king size down comforter, given to us for our wedding, is kept in a pine chest all summer just waiting for that perfect fall night. There are few places in the world that I love as much as our bed with our giant feather blanket and a good book. That first night of being reunited with our blanket always offers the most wonderful dreams and the soundest sleep!!

By this time, the trees are bare and nature shows more signs of hibernation. The squirrels whisk around in a hurried frenzy instead of their usual playfulness. The beautiful gardens that normally landscape our street get prepared for the winter months and the backyard toys are beginning to get packed away. The likes of snow shovels and wool scarves can be seen in neighbors doorways. I would normally cringe at the thought of our soon to be snow covered lawn but, thanks to our neighborhood's delicate transition, I know to prepare myself for what's to come!!

The final full week in October is when the neighborhood bursts with Halloween excitment. Homes everywhere are decorated and every now and then, out of the corner of your eye, you'll catch a little one trying on their costume and practicing their candy enticing smiles!!! Other than the few leaves left lying along the curb, the trees bear very little protection anymore. Instead, they provide a view that isn't otherwise seen during most of the year.

Our neighborhood is one of the oldest in the city and you can tell at first glance that even the trees show great pride in their maturity. With it's countless years of practice, it has managed to turn the art of change into a refined subtleness that almost goes unnoticed for those who live among its streets. For all the comforting whispers and gentle nudges that we are given to ease us into the change, nothing seems to prepares you for the day that you walk out your door, only to find that the canal has been drained once again for the season. The sight of our beloved canal, empty and dry, brings a shock that can only mean one thing...summer is officially gone yet again. The sadness usually lingers for a day or two as your eyes adjust to the unfamiliar scenery, but before you know it, you'll hear a chuckle of excitement from the one of the little girls next door and remember that when the first snow fall arrives...there will be a lot more of those to come!!

So there we are, yet again, my beautiful neighborhood and Mother Nature have teamed up to make saying goodbye to the long nights of summer a little bit easier. Every year, it feels like an invisible hand has taken mine and is slowly walking me through the inevitable. Perhaps that's why I love the change of seasons so much; It never fails to make me feel young again and remind me that, despite its power, there is a gentleness to the universe.

It is true that change will happen as surely as the seasons and likely twice as fast...it's one of the few things in life that you can truly count on. But for all the anxiety that change can sometimes bring, four years spent in the wisdom of my neighborhood has taught me that, if it weren't for change, we wouldn't have the opportunity to shed our own leaves in patient anticipation of a new season; Some filled with ritual, others with filled rhythm, but all promising a view that likely wasn't there until you woke up one morning and saw the red tree.