Looking out of my bedroom window, driving down the asphalt, walking to my children’s school, and the beat goes on. Death and rebirth cycles in full New Jack Swing. Shades of red, orange, and brown abound around my town. A cold wind tickles the remaining leaves on trees looking more and more like scarecrows and skeletons. Slaughter the livestock. Pack the root cellar. Stack the firewood. Patch the roof. Winter comes. That awful harbinger of death. Hark ye, do not despair. New life springs eternal come Vernal Equinox. But steal yourself for that long stark winter. The reaper will come for the old and sick. To keep HIM away sing loudly the songs of the season. Dance deftly the steps of your mothers and fathers. Tap the kegs and quaff the brandy. The Dark Months aren’t as bad as all that.