Okay autumn. Perhaps I’ve been unduly harsh. I’ve complained about you a lot. I think I’ve even said I hate you on occasion. Maybe that was a little strong. You’ll never be my favourite season, let’s be clear on that. How could you be when summer is so fun and frolicsome. Spring is pretty amazing too. What makes spring even better is that it is followed by summer, whereas you are followed by winter, a fatal strike if ever there was one. If you were followed by summer maybe you’d stand a chance and I’d feel differently. Maybe.
Nonetheless, I have had to rethink my harsh stance against you. The past couple of weeks have been pleasant and I am trying to be open to your special charms. The fall colours have been spectacular. Lots of burnt orange and gold and that dried up smoky leaf smell that makes me think of an old steam train.
Halloween was nice. The Sweetie carved a great pumpkin and I enjoyed roasting the seeds with lots of salt and cayenne pepper.
I have been making giant batches of soup. That’s a cozy autumnal thing to do. Big bubbling pots of soup on the stove aren’t appealing in the summer. One point for autumn.
I found a fabulous pair of mint condition boots at my favourite vintage shop (The Refinery on Markham Street, the best shop ever). Autumn lovers always seem to comment on how happy they are to wear cute boots again, as if that makes all the cold dreariness okay. I rarely find vintage boots in my big girl size. These fit like a dream and they are a gorgeous burnt orange, a perfect fall colour. It was your offering to me, wasn’t it? A little gift in autumnal hues to try and win me over.
So far the season has not been filled with the endless misery I had expected. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. Well played autumn, well played.