"Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two southerly days,
press them to ripeness, and chase
the last sweetness into heavy wine."
~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Autumn Day (translated by Galway Kinnell)
September, my birth month. Growing up I unfairly wove September into the obscure first-day-of-school ambiance. It carried the scent of pencil shavings and new plastic binders - it felt awkward; an uncomfortable silence, punctuated by the scrapping of chairs on shiny linoleum floors. Now that I've outgrown itchy plaid uniform skirts and falling knee socks, I'm in love with September. It's mercurial and temperamental, but, when in a benevolent mood, September is a magnificent host of two seasons.