By Anita Garner
This year all our seasons got misplaced. Smooshed together. The weather hasn’t matched any of them exactly and we’ve spent so much time inside, we’ve taken to decorating and celebrating whatever we want whenever the mood strikes.
In our part of Northern California, after record-breaking heatwaves this summer, a few leaves just now got together and decided to fall. Out in the yard, if you know where to step, you can hear autumn underfoot. On the tree outside my office window a few leaves are about to be in motion. I’ll need to dedicate time to follow the progress of one particular leaf floating. It’s a beautiful thing.
October is usually the start of my favorite time of year. Everything’s in place. Plaid shirts move to the front of the closet. Flannel sheets go on the bed. The winter comforter comes out of storage and takes a few turns in the dryer.
I’m not a big Halloween person, but the people I live with are and they started in September. A rather large skeleton belonging to the Grand appeared and now sits on top of the hutch. Orange twinkle lights are on a bookcase. A vintage centerpiece brought in by my daughter, the Thrifting Queen, is on the dining table. It puts me in mind of the 60s and 70s when we used to decorate for every dinner party.
Some say spring is renewal time, but for me autumn has always been the season of promise. This year, especially, it’s not just the fragrance of pumpkin and cinnamon and nutmeg, though I’ll never underestimate their impact. It’s not just the anticipation of fireplaces and rainstorms and Hallmark movies. This year, this season, in this house, there’s hope for better times ahead.
“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
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