Flannel Season

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“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

-George Eliot

Hello, October!

I hear October arriving without checking the calendar. There are just enough leaves collecting in small drifts to make an autumn sound and just enough leaves moving around so I can look out the window and follow the progress of one leaf floating down. When leaves leave, it’s an occasion for celebration around here.

October is the start of flannel season in Northern California.  Everything’s in place. Plaid shirts are in the closet.  Flannel sheets are on the bed. The down comforter came out of storage and took a few turns in the dryer, fluffing up for  the next few months.

Some say Spring is renewal time, but for me autumn promises everything good.

It’s not just the fragrance of pumpkin and cinnamon and nutmeg, though I will never underestimate their impact. There’s also the anticipation of fireplaces and rainstorms. I wouldn’t mind if autumn stayed around forever.

Half full or half empty?

Either “The sky is falling” or “Every cloud has a silver lining.”

Both points of view are evenly represented among my nearest and dearest.  Most days I fall into the silver lining category, which means of course I’m destined to spend much of my time with people who are always dodging chunks of the sky.

I like grey skies.  I live in Northern California in a fog belt and I am (perversely, some say) not a fan of summer.  I count the days until the season changes to autumn, which brings the chance of showers. 

My only grandchild lives in sunny Southern California, so I spend a lot of time there.  A few weeks ago, the four-year-old and I stepped outside her house and walked right into an unexpected June rain shower.   She stopped and turned her face up, and as  her new sundress got good and soaked she said,

“I love the rain.  Free water coming down.”

That’s my girl. 

Ó Anita Garner 2009