September is here, and I can feel my impatience building. I long for the chill winds of my beloved Autumn, and all the gifts he brings me. While resisting the temptation to drag the fall decorations down from the attic for at least a few more days, I decided the best way to feed my longing for Autumn is to resurrect an old post from a couple of years ago.
Autumn, if you're reading, please know that I am waiting to greet your arrival...
This piece was originally posted on my Xanga blog October 3, 2005 along with a really amazing poem written by a blog-friend.
He’s coming. I can feel it.
I have had a life-long love affair with Autumn.
As September draws to a close, the temperatures begin to tease me. The still warm days are occasionally interrupted by a cool breeze, or a chilly evening, --- The problem is that it never lasts long. Just when I think I might throw open the windows and air out the house…the thermometer creeps up over eighty degrees, and summer lingers.
And though summer hangs around rather longer than she is welcome, I know her days are numbered. Eventually she will have to sleep, and then Autumn will finally blow in on the breeze.
He will bring me mementos --- all the sights and smells of fall. Wet leaves, logs burning, the scent of rain on the air, hay-rides, county fairs, pumpkins, apple pies, squash and high-school football. He whispers on the wind, and in my ears I hear… “Look, I’ve set the horizon on fire with red and orange, brown and gold. There’s a chill in the air, let’s go for a walk."
What is it about the crunch of leaves beneath my feet that makes me feel as though everything is absolutely beautiful?
So I linger in the evenings and watch the sunset. I shiver slightly, and pull on a sweater as the stars turn on their lights, one-by-one. I listen to the sounds of fall, and already, it is a bittersweet moment.
Because I know…
Autumn never stays long in Oklahoma. He floats in on a breeze, plays with my hair, and my heart… He whispers to me of steaming bowls of stew and chili, happy family gatherings and holidays…I almost believe he’s going to stay a while… but in little more than a week he has left me again.
The color fades.
The temperature falls.
Winter begins to announce his arrival, and dear, sweet Autumn slips away when I’m not looking….
And still, I love him.
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