I’ve always railed against the coming of winter, but now that I’ve reached the autumn of life, when my biological clock ticks a little more slowly, I find I am a bit relieved the hectic pace of summer is about to come to end. Now, autumn somehow suits me better.

As greenwich mean time beckons us to “fall back,” Mother Nature will pull down her shade and night will fall at the precise hour my circadian rhythm tells me I’ve earned a respite from the labors of the day.

Already, there is a bit of a nip in the air as the sun sets in the west. Progressively cooler nights will soon encourage me to seek the warmth of a sheepskin throw I will bring out of the cedar chest where it has been stored during the steamy summer months.

As an artist, I have always been partial to the palette of crimson, vermillion, amber and saffron the maker uses to paint the leaves when autumn is new. My senses seem to come alive even as the sound of brittle hazel-, coffee- and cocoa-colored leaves fall to the ground and crunch beneath my feet.

Confirmed pluviophile that I am, I welcome the cold rains and the days spent watching the droplets glide down the windowpane and puddle on the porch below.

On such days, the water seems to quench the dried recesses of my mind and nourish my imagination so the words flow more freely as I write. I am inspired to emulate these scenes in paintings as well, but they will pale beside those painted in nature.

Not only is my mind more fertile during the autumn, but my hands become more productive than in any other season.

I begin to bake pastries filled with seasonal fruits and aromatic cinnamon, nutmeg and clove spices. I cover the stovetop with far too many pots of hearty soups and meaty stews and soon fill the freezer with more manageable servings for days when the winter chill stiffens my joints.

On especially good days, heavy crockery bowls of yeast-filled dough might be found rising beneath cotton tea towels before the heat of the waiting oven transforms it into loaves of fresh bread.

Today, as I daydream in anticipation of a more mellow time – the seasons are tentative.

The sun is shining brightly today. Humidity hangs above us like a heavy canvas awning, and temperatures have once again climbed into stifling digits.

Mother Nature revives her mood swings by fluctuating the climate in Kentucky at a moment’s notice, but I have faith that. just as it always has, autumn will come in due time and I will welcome its arrival.

Those of you who know me understand I will not be so cordial when winter comes calling.

See you next month.

Anne Carmichael is a lifestyle columnist who submits monthly to the Jessamine Journal.