I stood outside of a cornfield north of Cambridge, N.Y., and I saw Fall rolling in. The corn is about high enough to harvest and soon the big red farm trucks will be riding up and down the roads, spilling sileage and grumbling about Autumn. The light is changing, the nights are cool, the kids are getting grumpy and restless about school, the parents scrambling to get everything ready for school. This is a time of change, a reason I love living her, love to endure the winters, I would  greatly miss the change of seasons, it defines life and growth and the nature of life for me. We all love what we are used to, and this is what my soul is used to, hazy dusks with tall cornfields ready to get chopped up.