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Continuing from these posts ...
Autumn, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tinksdarkerside
Autumn is when my mind resets. There's a crisp, dank scent that creeps into the air as September slips in, it always smells of new beginnings.
I got caught out by it a week or two ago. It was just after the Mediterranean spell of hot blue skies had broken. At 4pm the world was sodden and the sky was so overcast that you would have sworn it was a November evening. And it hit me, clear and direct as if whispered in my ear: 'Something's going to happen.'
It's the childhood curse of academic scheduling, of course. Twenty-odd years of new terms starting in September means my brain is now thoroughly programmed to associate a chill in the air and a change in the leaves with the new school year. And with it new books, new classes, new stationery, new shirts, new shoes, new beginnings. And the hope that this year would magic a transformation: new friends, a new life, a new me.
It never did. Well, not until Uni anyway, but that was more a crashing avalanche of things-that-change, not tied to any one season. (Looking back, I remember it as being mostly summer, which has to be impossible, especially in this country.)
But all the same, it has infected me, and I doubt it will ever really fade. And I doubt I am alone in the feeling either. In a secular world we spin new mythologies from everyday rituals. There will always be a ghost of New Year's Day haunting the heart of Autumn.
Plus big piles of leaves will ALWAYS be fun to jump in, no matter how old you get...
Autumn, for
tinksdarkersideAutumn is when my mind resets. There's a crisp, dank scent that creeps into the air as September slips in, it always smells of new beginnings.
I got caught out by it a week or two ago. It was just after the Mediterranean spell of hot blue skies had broken. At 4pm the world was sodden and the sky was so overcast that you would have sworn it was a November evening. And it hit me, clear and direct as if whispered in my ear: 'Something's going to happen.'
It's the childhood curse of academic scheduling, of course. Twenty-odd years of new terms starting in September means my brain is now thoroughly programmed to associate a chill in the air and a change in the leaves with the new school year. And with it new books, new classes, new stationery, new shirts, new shoes, new beginnings. And the hope that this year would magic a transformation: new friends, a new life, a new me.
It never did. Well, not until Uni anyway, but that was more a crashing avalanche of things-that-change, not tied to any one season. (Looking back, I remember it as being mostly summer, which has to be impossible, especially in this country.)
But all the same, it has infected me, and I doubt it will ever really fade. And I doubt I am alone in the feeling either. In a secular world we spin new mythologies from everyday rituals. There will always be a ghost of New Year's Day haunting the heart of Autumn.
Plus big piles of leaves will ALWAYS be fun to jump in, no matter how old you get...
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