A season of change
Autumn is here.
It's sort of my favorite time of the year. The leaves fall from the trees, my foster-father prepares for his yearly bout of depression (lasting until spring), kids start school and teenagers start smoking. It's all a nature walk.
Summer takes a graceful bow and promises as swift a return as possible, although as far north as here, that takes a pretty long time. Father Winter begins preparing for his smiling on-slaught, only later to be defeated by the beguiling charms of spring.
Most of all, I run out of cliches describing the seasons.
Despite all the bromides, it really is this feeling of being in-between that appeals to me. It's not summer anymore, that much is clear. It's cold, but not yet frost. You can still spot some green in the grass and on the trees, but it's fading. You can still remember the hot days of summer (the few that actually were), but you can also feel how cold it's going to become.
It's both a time of remembering the good days of summer, and also a time of anticipation for winter. After all, christmas isn't all that far away, and winter has its charms as well.
I always get a little nostalgic this time of year. Must be my sensitive suffering romantic soul of a bad poet.
I think it's time for a hot cup of cocoa.
It's sort of my favorite time of the year. The leaves fall from the trees, my foster-father prepares for his yearly bout of depression (lasting until spring), kids start school and teenagers start smoking. It's all a nature walk.
Summer takes a graceful bow and promises as swift a return as possible, although as far north as here, that takes a pretty long time. Father Winter begins preparing for his smiling on-slaught, only later to be defeated by the beguiling charms of spring.
Most of all, I run out of cliches describing the seasons.
Despite all the bromides, it really is this feeling of being in-between that appeals to me. It's not summer anymore, that much is clear. It's cold, but not yet frost. You can still spot some green in the grass and on the trees, but it's fading. You can still remember the hot days of summer (the few that actually were), but you can also feel how cold it's going to become.
It's both a time of remembering the good days of summer, and also a time of anticipation for winter. After all, christmas isn't all that far away, and winter has its charms as well.
I always get a little nostalgic this time of year. Must be my sensitive suffering romantic soul of a bad poet.
I think it's time for a hot cup of cocoa.
posted by Völundur at 4:17 am
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