Fall means different things to different people.

In my childhood it meant donning school uniform, the tie strangling my throat, the wool tunic scratching the back of my knees. But it also meant reuniting with friends, returning to familiar routines – both of which were important to me then, and still are.

These days, my friends are returning from exciting trips, or visits with families, or personal and geographic explorations.

And the routines I need to restablish are waiting for me at my desk. A midgrade nonfiction book to work on, preparation for some upcoming workshops and classes I am presenting, and some new thoughts collecting in my head – and in my notebook – to examine and explore.

Meanwhile the sun shines, the sky is clear, and drifting through the morning air is the sound of children enjoying recess at the nearby school, the beep of construction equipment as yet more apartment buildings go up in my neighbourhood, and the chatter of neighbours communing below my window.

And I have work to do…