Autumn, how I love thee — let me count the ways
by little red pen
So, I guess up there in the North, you’re all spring — coats and blossoms and soft rain and crocuses and whatnot. Down here in the South, though, we’ve flicked into autumn, which I suspect is my soul season, and which I am certain is delightful and a welcome growing up of summer, that fickle, disappointing, occasionally wonderful season.
Good things about autumn (which my over-caffinated fingers have tried to spell about six different ways already)
- It’s a warm and clean-limbed day, and I’ve brought my work out to the back porch. Coffee; a raggedy, weedy garden; bees patrolling the flowers, doing their small, vital work; the leaves taking colour against the sky; some writing to put to rights.
- Scarves, obviously. And cardigans. I’m such an old lady.
- Red wine seems to go with most meals.
- When we have friends over, we can pull the table into the garden and have a FEAST.
- The temperature has steadied, the wind has dropped. If it heats up, I’ll take extra joy in bare arms. If it cools down, I’ll light a fire without feeling foolish. When the sun shines, my limbs will soften and I’ll tilt my head to the sky.
- The year has clicked into gear. We’re rolling now.
- Duvets. Bed.
- In the spring, just two seasons away, I’ll be an aunty to two new babies. And one of them will be just down the valley.
- The students are back — the city’s got its buzz on.
- Eggplants, zucchinis, tomatoes, pumpkins. Lamb. Fennel growing fat in the ground. Apples. Pears.