Early autumn

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　　In college, the sense of the seasons seems to fade away; one probably spends too much time having fun and ignores all weather conditions, which is a bit excessive. Yet this fleeting splendor cannot be retained even after being seen. 　　Just a few days ago, it seemed as though autumn was arriving, but in the space of no time, everyone in the school switched from short-sleeved shirts and swim trunks to coats and long garments. Still feeling not cold enough, a few more light showers fell, bringing the chill of autumn deep into the soil and the leaves, until that slight sense of cold reached one’s bones, at which point it happily announced its arrival. 　　Autumn is the withering of what has matured; it possesses a unique sense of melancholy beauty. It cannot compare to the vitality of spring, nor can it replace the splendor of flowers in summer, yet it remains incomparably beautiful. Like a symphony of all things, it is the red leaves covering the mountains that first bring excitement; like a final glow, they declare their departure from this world with utmost pride. The ginkgo trees also refuse to be left behind; they insist on adorning the entire street with a golden hue, then marching proudly toward the end of the world. The ending isn’t important; what matters is to bring out a strong atmosphere. Everyone is determined to turn this season into a beautiful oil painting – one that is both serene and magnificent. It is a season of the end of all things; it seems sad yet passionate. One final performance after another unfolds from the beginning, representing the last burst of life, leaving behind a faint trace of its existence. 　　I love the atmosphere of autumn the most – grand yet not luxurious, passionate yet not frenetic. Every plant and tree is beautifully presented, and the cool air is filled with a gentle serenity that influences one’s spirit, making one more mature and composed.