Of all the seasons I hate the Autumn the most. I find it hard to find joy in anything. The balmy warmth of Summer is retreating and only dank damp decay is creeping over the still landscape. I am looking out of the window now and I can see partially bare trees with limp leaves which can hardly muster enough energy to look alive. Yes, the colour is there but there is no wind. Autumn has a sort of stillness as though it is waiting to be something else. Dismal is how Autumn makes me feel. It’s as though I have just lost a friend that I will not see again for ages. I am feeling maudling today.
It’s time to go and see my chooks. Sitting with them always cheers me up. They should bottle the sort of therapy they give me. At one time once Autumn raised her stifling blanket of dreariness I never left the house. Now I have a reason to be outdoors, which is helpful. It gives me some much-needed exercise too. Roll on Winter. Now winter is a proper season. It is invigorating, wild, stark, architectural, crisp and bright. Winter isn’t pretending to be anything it’s not. I love winter.