The melancholic songs in my childhood were at least not derangedly furious songs; but they were awfully sentimental.
"Try to remember/the time of September/when grass was green/and oh so mellow" -- awful lyrics.
It was the time of the changing of leaves, which always astonished me -- the autumn cascade of color was one of the most keenly-felt losses when we moved to the desert. As much as I loved the baseball season, the autumn brought the season of mystery, of a kind of aliveness in the face of cold.
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