To speak of October is to speak of my bithday. My thirteenth birthday was on a Friday, the 13th of October. Three years ago, just a day after my birthday, I ended up in the ER from an allergic reaction. In two different years, I went to concerts to celebrate my birthday: Incubus and Something Corporate. Those were two of the best concerts I ever went to.
To speak of October is to speak of magic. Many like spring because it speaks of new life. To me, the fall speaks of greater potential for new life and rebirth. The leaves turn and die as the chlorophyll leaves. Animals bed down for the winter. The skies darken, and the ocean crashes mightily upon the shore. The whole world is in a state of flux. Everything is succumbing to entropy, but, faithfully, I know the green will return again. The close of October brings Halloween and, more importantly, All Saint's Day; these, too, are a reminder of death, but they are also a celebration of those who have lived and left their mark. October reminds me, each year, to keep that faith and hope in new life and beauty coming forth from a world that appears to be falling apart.
To speak of October is to stir my heart into longing for crisp fall air and crunchy leaves. I have fond childhood memories of raking the lawn; while my parents might disagree, this is one chore that I don't remember whining about. I love pulling out warm sweaters and thinking about evenings spent with hot chocolate by the fire. October is the perfect month to spend cuddling after a good hike in cool air.
To speak of October is to speak of the beauty of this changing earth.