Today is a change-of-season day. Summer clings to the sky, but it’s a half-hearted attempt at staying. She may love the African jungle, but the sophisticated, cosmopolitan North is calling. Autumn rouses slowly, pushing off the covers like a reluctant bear after a satisfying hibernation. It’s just a little early for her fiery robes and the eddies of leaves that dance around our autumnal boots in March and April. But her eyes are open, and there’s just the faintest smell of fall-like morning breath. On the breeze, the softest whisper … “is it coffee time?”
I have always loved the magic of Autumn – once I decided to notice it. I had to write an essay for school, and it required a mental shift towards this season that, until that moment, I’d largely ignored as just another faded interlude on the way to Spring (my favourite) and Summer (the best of all). But there’s electricity in the air all Autumn long. The magical colours and crisp, cool zephyrs that lift those flakes of fire and wave them briefly, gently, in front of your face, before whisking them off to entertain some other wayfarer with their bright and happy hues. The very real sense that the world is going to sleep – reluctantly, like an good natured but overtired toddler after too much Easter chocolate. (This is when we have our Easter down here in the South, after all.) The static electricity that adds a dimension of adventure to everything we dare to touch, as the air gets drier and drier.
Today is not Autumn. Not yet. “Officially”, it starts tomorrow. But this morning is painted in soft strokes of misty silver. The air is snaps with early-morning cold, even though it’s nearly 9AM. The song of birds is quieter than it was at dawn, and blanket of fog lends an ethereal, otherworldly silence to everything it touches.. There’s a sense of quiet anticipation in the air, and I find myself looking forward to what the next quarter may bring.