Autumn and I have had a lifelong love affair that grows more exciting with each passing year.
She shows up on my doorstep, the gorgeous fiery red-headed beauty she is, hair blowing about her, insists I take her hand, and spirits me away on a yearly adventure. She's never missed a year, despite the presence of an Indian Summer, or the early arrival of Old Man Winter. She arrives and claims her time with me even in the face of the last hot boastful breaths of summer or the bone-chilling exhalations of an early winter. I might be distracted, or not completely whole, but she never fails to demand my time. She's a passionate and greedy lover and I am powerless to resist her call.
I am even more drawn to her as I inhale her intoxicating perfume, a mixture of the first hints of apple-wood smoke from chimney's, a brisk chill in the air, apple cider, cinnamon, cloves and an earthy smell that when combined make me swoon with desire for my beloved. As I walk with her, the crisp crunch of fallen leaves underfoot make me tingle with excitement and fill me with a joy unlike anything I experience any other time of year. Autumn is a generous lover and gifts me with a bacchanal for my senses.
Photo by me
I am 'silly in love' with Autumn. Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that I become just a little wild this time of year. I'm not so dissimilar from the crisp amber leaf that finds itself carried away on a brisk fall breeze as it begins its descent from where it was born, grew, and spent its youthful glory upon the mighty arm of perhaps a maple or even a stately oak tree.
All spring and summer long, it sat aloft and took in the rebirth of life all around it, weathered the tempter tantrums of spring and the fickle nature that is a New England summer. Now it sets its sights on places unknown. Maybe it's a short ride to the ground below where it will end up amongst its red, yellow, orange and amber colored brothers and sisters in a huge pile to be jumped into with the wild abandon of youth - and some not so young, or perhaps this breeze will carry it further afar to places unknown. Maybe it's a brief journey upon the wind through apple-laden orchards, or across fields of golden corn, waiting for the coming harvest.
Like me, the leaf is powerless to the beckon of Autumn. She wants what she wants, and she always gets what she wants.
My yearly affair with Autumn is a bit scandalous. You know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. I actually feel, (for the first time in a long time), with every fiber and cell of my being, like being scandalous, a little bawdy, and more than just a touch celebratory with the arrival of Autumn. She excites my senses and makes me feel alive, more truly alive than I do any other time of year.
More of life's absurdities and observations of life along the Maine coast from Audrey can be found at Barking Mad!