Fall in Evanston, fall in Ashland, fall on a weekend trip to Wisconsin, fall driving through Chicago, fall pretty much everywhere. Except Colorado. Even when there are leaves on the ground, even when we go driving for the places where the leaves are supposed to be pretty. Never in Colorado. It’s not the right kind of fall. The air isn’t right, not in smell, not in humidity, not in temperature. Nine years here, nine years trying to find a reminder of my “favorite” season. I’ve finally given up.

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