I ran into my fabulous friend Stuart in the church parking lot last weekend … (Not in a car.) (We were both on foot.) (So don't worry.)

Anyway! When Stuart saw me, he made this expansive gesture with both arms and said, "Just LOOK at all the leaves on these trees!"

There were, in fact, a lot of leaves. That's one of the nice things about living in an old city neighborhood — the streets here are lined with trees as old as grandparents.

Sycamores. Elms. Honey locusts. Chestnuts. Catalpas.

And, people, when it's high summer in the Avenues, there are leaves a-plenty. Leaves, leaves, leaves! Everywhere you look there are leaves, popping like popcorn on the apricot tree.

Stuart went on. And exactly where were all these leaves just a few months ago? He wanted to know. Remember the month of March? The branches were all brown and bony then. Gaunt as runway models.

But now? The trees are shimmering in green chiffon.

That was pretty much the extent of my conversation with Stuart. We both had places to go, people to meet. But I have happily thought about his words every single day since.

When I ask myself why this is so, I've had a hard time coming up with an answer.

Part of it has to do with the ongoing affection I feel for Stuart and his family. We have been neighbors for many years, and I can say without hesitation that there's no home in which I would rather have a meal, especially if there's a bowl game on TV. He's a great cook, a great host.

And he notices everything that's going on around him. Obviously.

But there was something more about our conversation that resonated with me. Something about Stuart's gesture — those arms wide open in an embrace — that still makes me smile.

It was as if Stuart was giving Mother Nature a HUGE hug for first hiding the leaves and then revealing them. Over and over. Again and again. Season after season.

OH, MOTHER NATURE! YOU ARE JUST SO CLEVER!

Stuart's embrace has particular meaning for me this time of year. When the days start to shorten, I feel the old familiar panic rise up within me. Soon the days will grow dark and cold. Soon the shadows will return and take up residence in my head.

OK. I REALLY wish I didn't fall into a funk each fall. It's a total drag, and seriously? I don't recommend it.

But there it is.

Apparently SOMEBODY has to get depressed, so I guess it might as well be me … Don't worry, though! I'll break out the Light Box and the Gratitude Journal.

And. I. Will. Be. Just. Fine.

I always am.

And here's the thing. This year I'll have another weapon in my beating-the-winter-blues arsenal — the memory of my good neighbor marveling about the mystery of leafiness. It will remind me that seasons come and go, like shapes of the moon.

Which means that the green always, always returns.

Email: acannon@desnews.com