Autumn, the season I love the most. There is a noticeable difference in the garden, one that I welcome with a warm feeling in my belly and a gentle sigh. The drooping leaves have turned a russet orange, crisping around the edges, falling to the ground. I feel inspired to do spectacular things, like run away to a deserted cottage, for one night or two. I am certain that something is calling out to me, a plea to make new family rhythms, to feel brave and brilliant.