To me, the arrival of fall weather — which every New Yorker and their grandmother just raves about: oh, oh, apples, pumpkins, sweaters, crisp weather! — simply means the trees are dying and soon I’ll be cold. All. The. Time.
But yes, I have to admit, it is pretty, and sometimes I get swept up by all the colors. Even if soon the color will be gone and everything will look and feel dead.