Autumn

The Golden Girl is back in town💛

Autumn is my ‘Tigger’ time.

Yes, I confess to getting jump-up-and-down giddy about it. Drunk as a dying wasp on its wood-smoke wafts and Swiss roll sunsets.

So much so, I dedicate an entire post to recognising its splendour.

Summer is such a slag of a season, after all, isn’t she?

So obvious - Californicating your sensibilities with her Daisy Duke sunshine arse in your face. Just back off with your bright already, bitch!

Okay, I concede that Summer has her place……but everyone knows that Autumn is the sophisticated older sister. Classier, edgier, less of a crowd pleaser. Mistress Mustard doesn’t need you to love her or book holidays in her honour. She doesn’t have to parade garish flowers. She’s the original Golden Girl.

I was always more of a cooler climes type. My wardrobe leans naturally towards long skirts, boots and scarves. I have a penchant for geography teacher style corduroy blazers that look like they should have a Redbush teabag stowed away in the pocket.

Even my pre-silver chestnut hair lent itself more readily to this annual chapter of conkers and fiery sky.

I think the goth side of me enjoys the death of flowers a little too much, too. I revel in porcelain crackly purse pods, mousey slits of seed and brittle stem skeletons with their ghostly manes.

Autumn somehow manages to fade the world to the charm of a sepia photograph whilst simultaneously brushing it with blood orange marmalade glaze.

Moorland Heather gives way to auburn, Virginia Creeper laces through fences like rampant ruby negligées. The leaves of Acers and Heucheras appear as jammy waving hands. Soil becomes damper and takes on the fudgey cloy of chocolate brownies.

There is a feeling of gratitude that sweeps this season too. We know we haven’t as much time - that the days are getting shorter, the nights colder.

We stock up, cosy up, layer up.

Then, we wind down.

I love the way that two of the Autumn months manage to thread ‘ember’ into their name too. It’s as if they’re reminding you to cherish final glows before the dark of winter.

So, on this September morning, put aside your August mourning.

Get ready to reacquaint yourself with your breath as it sheds its cloak of invisibility.

Notice busy garden spiders with their shades of crab, tweed and humbug. Watch them craft webs that weep with dew.

Pop a wild blackberry or two inside your mouth as you walk to work or school. Feel its perfume puddle stain your lips with the unashamed lacquer of your childhood.

Fall for Fall.