Harvest season
Fall is almost here. I can smell it coming on the wind. The morning air is just a little warmer than brisk. The days are still warm, but the leaves are beginning to mottle with yellow and orange.
Fall has always been my favorite season, and I suppose at least part of it has to do with my morbid side: I like it when everything is dying. I like the rain, the cold winds, the earthy scent of decaying wood on the air, greying skies, a dimmer sun, and shorter days. I like watching the world change around me. It's not as dramatic here in the Bay Area as it was growing up in Arkansas, but compared to San Diego, it's glorious.
One of the extra-nice things about fall is that when the air is wet, it holds scents a lot better, so what with my well-developed sense of smell, going for walks is an olfactory delight. This might be another reason I adore fall: memories are most strongly triggered by scent, so when I smell things in fall, my memories come to life. And there are all kinds of associations -- the approaching of holidays, Halloween (which was always a special time of year for me, even if I wasn't allowed to go trick-or-treating), chopping wood for fires, harvest festivals, backpacking trips through woods filled with rainbows of leaves...
But really, more than anything else, it's the sense of change that appeals to me most. In no other season, perversely, is the world so actively alive. Spring, you might make an argument for, and spring is my second-favorite season, but spring growth is slow, and spring rains are drizzles. In fall, the weather starts doing stuff after the stagnation of summer. Huge winds come out of nowhere as if they want to lift you up off the ground, leaves continually drift down from the trees, rains spill out of huge, dramatic clouds. Fall is exciting for me.
Welcome, autumn. You can't get here soon enough. Soak my hair with rain. Pelt me with hail. Stick leaves to my trousers. Redden my cheeks. Kill the trees.
Fall has always been my favorite season, and I suppose at least part of it has to do with my morbid side: I like it when everything is dying. I like the rain, the cold winds, the earthy scent of decaying wood on the air, greying skies, a dimmer sun, and shorter days. I like watching the world change around me. It's not as dramatic here in the Bay Area as it was growing up in Arkansas, but compared to San Diego, it's glorious.
One of the extra-nice things about fall is that when the air is wet, it holds scents a lot better, so what with my well-developed sense of smell, going for walks is an olfactory delight. This might be another reason I adore fall: memories are most strongly triggered by scent, so when I smell things in fall, my memories come to life. And there are all kinds of associations -- the approaching of holidays, Halloween (which was always a special time of year for me, even if I wasn't allowed to go trick-or-treating), chopping wood for fires, harvest festivals, backpacking trips through woods filled with rainbows of leaves...
But really, more than anything else, it's the sense of change that appeals to me most. In no other season, perversely, is the world so actively alive. Spring, you might make an argument for, and spring is my second-favorite season, but spring growth is slow, and spring rains are drizzles. In fall, the weather starts doing stuff after the stagnation of summer. Huge winds come out of nowhere as if they want to lift you up off the ground, leaves continually drift down from the trees, rains spill out of huge, dramatic clouds. Fall is exciting for me.
Welcome, autumn. You can't get here soon enough. Soak my hair with rain. Pelt me with hail. Stick leaves to my trousers. Redden my cheeks. Kill the trees.