Autumn

It’s a weird time, isn’t it? I hear talk of winter blues, but I think autumn is the most depressing season. Winter, to me, is about persevering, about steeling oneself and working hard to find joy, and the joy is that much more worthwhile when it’s found. Autumn, though, is waning days, a constant biological panic that time is running out and the fun is over.

I think when you realize that tendency, you can overcome it. Autumn is my favourite season. I love the yellow, I love catching leaves as they fall, and I like that crispy sound under my feet when they shrivel up and carpet the sidewalks like an elven royal hall. I love the tapping, skittering sound when wind pushes them down the road. I love that it’s not so hot I’m sweating, but the sun is out, and it’s breezy, and I can wear sweaters and layers and not die. Blue and yellow and red and green all over.

It’s great! I love every day. But everyone is so dour all the time. Cheer up, people. Look at the world. I know it feels like there’s not enough time, but it’s all a wonderful illusion anyway–might as well enjoy the art of it.

Sometimes I feel like there’s a lot of hatred and bitterness deep down. But when I look at the trees, I learn how to let it all go, whirring through the breeze, until I can catch it crisply beneath my feet.

– H.

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