I would love to write something poetic here about how as the leaves change so do we but honestly I'm just a pragmatic soul. I'd rather be comfortable than romantic. Although currently I am neither of those things. It's October and the leaves are turning. I've just left my toxic job and I am in the process of recovering my (soul, mental life, physical health) joie de vivre. But growth is what comes after the rest. So I'm calling this fallow season- where I put the manure in to nourish the soil (told you I wasn't romantic).