Morning, All!
I'm filling in for Catriona today as she's ... well, impossibly busy. That's not even hyperbolic. I have no idea how she gets done all that she's been getting done. Is there a portrait in her attic of an exhausted woman? Has she been cloned? Was the BBCA show Orphan Black really about her? We will never know ... unless I disappear. In which case, I think we can assume it's one of those two choices. Maybe even both somehow.
I want to talk about Fall. Or Autumn as those who speak The Queen's English say, Autumn, with a sneer of derision. Yes, we Americans call it Fall because the leaves fall but they call elevators 'lifts' because they lift up so I don't think there's any call to be snooty on their part.
I live in the Mid-Atlantic region of the US. The DC suburbs, specifically. One of the advantages of living here is we have pretty well defined seasons. Fall is lovely here. The county I live in has strict green space rules so there are masses of trees, old growth, that burst into flame reds, smolder into ember orange, and shine into mellow sun-inpsired yellows. In fact, my commute to my former day job along a parkway was a wide tunnel of fall colors so vivid and warm that even the very common rainy days weren't gloomy for the stretch. While I didn't necessarily look forward to my commute (the parkway was aptly named as it felt like a parking lot for much of the so-called drive) I knew I had that bright section to look forward to, along with a "friend" I named The Man in the Orange Turban.
It was summer that I first saw him walking along the path to the left of my direction of traffic. He was easy to see because, as his name may have given away, his dastaar (the name for the traditional Sikh headwear) was orange. Taffy orange. Circus peanut orange. And since I was sitting in traffic, something different and interesting to catch my eye. Despite having first seen him in summer I associate him with fall. One of the few things I enjoyed.
I didn't, and still don't enjoy, the dead leaves laying all over the sidewalks, getting rained on, sticking, molding *achoo* and staining the sidewalk cement, the wooden deck; being tracked into my house along with the mud on eight paws. I didn't enjoy the colder weather; the 70s one day only to be 40 the next. Cold in the morning, hot in the sun-beaten afternoon.
But, as a person who has developed their own weather system internally, I'm coming to appreciate fall more. Our new deck with its covered swing is an ideal place to sit with coffee or a cocktail, depending on the time of day. A throw blanket warms me up as I work a crossword or lie down for a quick al fresco nap. I suppose it's the slowing down that early retirement has opened up my ability to appreciate the fall more. Definitely the deck has with its lovely design specifically intended for my enjoyment. (My husband really is the very best, ya'll. As is his father who performed duties as a wood delivery man, builder, and all around dogsbody ... literally, as our dogs LOVE their Puppaw rabidly :) )
I suppose it really is the slowing down that allows me to appreciate the less hustle-y, bustle-y time of fall when the leaves fall in their time and the squirrels gather the acorns from the trees that surround the deck. Fall is a preparation time, it seems. One for the activities necessary to a peaceful winter. The gathering of metaphorical acorns and lighting of candles. The calm of looking forward to the winter hibernation.
I hope Catriona is able to slow down soon and get her metaphorical acorns stored so she too can enjoy prepare for a long winter's nap to refill her writer's well and continue making the fantastic books she makes.
Happy Fall, Y'all!
Comments