There is something to days when cold rain knifes through the air, stabbing at leaves falling heavily to the ground that makes me want to shuffle no farther than the kitchen to fix a cup of strong coffee, lit a fire, and curl up in my chair with a book. Instead I’m basking under fluorescent lights trying to shake the chill that is settling into my bones wondering how and when I can start gnawing at the stockpile of vacation time I am sitting on before it starts to evaporate.

Odd enough, this is one of my favorite times of the year: cold and rainy October days. These are the best days for debating whether or not a show is necessary and if it is taking a long time to linger, letting the bathroom go opaque for all the steam. It is a fine time to work your way through the works of Coltrane, Mingus, Davis, Dolphy, and Tyner; taking care not to talk, just listen.  To curl up tight into a cat-like ball with a cheap paperback, binding creased, and read until you forget that you aren’t one of the characters on those well-thumbed pages.

It is a short bridge to walk into Winter but one worth enjoying the moment no matter how brief.