Introduction

Hello Mythketeers!
Fall has truly begun to raise its head. The trees are starting to change, and the reds and the yellows are bursting forth, and a distinct chill has settled on the air at night. The days remain sunny, but the warmth is diminishing, and sweaters, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts are making an appearance.
Summer is over.
Did you finish that summer reading list? Did you finish that summer book you were writing? Or did you enjoy the lazy, hazy days and recharge your battery? Whatever you did in the warmer months, I hope it fed your soul. I hope it filled the fire in your head with stories and sketches and brilliant colors. I hope you found peace, even if it was only for one day. We all talk of the doldrums of winter. The winter blues, the cold depression, but no one talks of the one that comes in the warmer months. The one that is sometimes fueled by the disappointment in our physical form, or the lack of ambition we feel because of the heat or humidity. No one talks of the sadness that comes as the days beat a steady rhythm of cicada buzzes and frog croaks, pushing towards an ending that no one ever seems ready for. While summer can be wonderful and fun-filled and joyous, it can have a dark, looming presence of an ending that will trace its icy fingers down your back as you step out of the water. Only for a second, you're not even sure you felt it, but it's always there. In the shaded parts, in the caves, in the caverns, in the forests, on a moonless, cloudless night. That shiver of cold. I fight it all summer. I used to wish as a child that I could stop time. On the most perfect day of summer. When the lake was the perfect temperature, the sun was the perfect intensity, and my boat had a full tank of gas. I would close my eyes and pretend that I froze time, for that moment, and stay there as long as I could. But, like all things, that day would come to an end. So I would hold that day, that feeling, in my memory for when I needed it the most over the colder months.
And it helped. I would close my eyes and turn my face to the sun, seeing the starburst of color behind my eyelids and remembering the sound of the waves, the screech of the seagull, the whir of my boat motor, and I would smile.
I use the same technique today. Just different memories. The sound of the spring peepers outside my cabin at the cottage, the feel of the wind blowing in the window of my car as I travel a backroad, or the sound of life outside my open windows. They all get me through the harder days. Fall is a tough time for me, but it is also a time of joy. I am counting down the days until I can travel, and I am saying goodbye to friends and family until spring.
What I am trying to impart to you all with this long, melodramatic intro is that we need both. We need the joy of summer, and the sadness of fall. We need the life that is thriving in the sun, and the death that comes as the sun's warmth leaves. It feeds us in different ways, but it feeds us nonetheless. Our creative selves need all of it. The pain, the pleasure, the loss, and the gain. So embrace whatever season you are in. Move through it, learn from it, and keep what you need to fuel the creative fire in your head.
It has fueled mine.
I want to say a huge thank you to everyone, and a huge congratulations to my co-Member of the  Month. Crystal Ramos and I both tied! I was astounded and am humbled by the honor.
Congratulations to a new contributor, Milo K. Rourke, for their piece, Late Shift, which graces our cover.
Congratulations to Tim Law for being our Feature Article this month! His poem Monster of my Dreams can be found under the poetry section of the magazine.

Until next month,

Stephanie J Bardy
Editor of change, challenge, and cherished memories.