There is undoubtedly something magical about the transition between seasons. The equinox arrives, telling the sun to set and the light to dim earlier each evening. We watch as lush greens turn into a palette of red, yellow, and orange. Eventually the foliage drops, revealing branches naked and bare — a representation of a more inhospitable time of year. The spiced aromas of candles fill the room, while the soft glow of it’s flame reflects upon the wall, dancing and flickering with each catch of air. We slow down, quieting our mind as we pull yet another layer over ourselves — a sock, a sweater, a blanket. And it’s in this stillness that we feel the nostalgia and find thanks in this annual story that is simutaneously the same and different every time it is told.