Autumn’s Hope

A short post for a busy time of year.

Autumn is always a bittersweet time of year for me.  As a child, it brought serious dread as bringing back the torment of school.  At the same time, I loved to learn and loved having a huge library to play in.  In one year at that school I talk about in the last two posts, I read over 250 of the library’s books.  I’ve always been something of a ferocious reader.  That year I think I took it to extremes.

Fall is an amazing time to me.  For me, it’s the scent of the leaves, the trees, the faint hints of woodsmoke that seem to hang in the air even in places that don’t have any wood fires nearby.  Even the rain in autumn has a smell and a feel to it that’s different than any other time of year.  Something about it just speaks to me.

Despite all the pain the damp and cold the fall brings to me, I enjoy the fall almost more than any other season.  Summer will, of course, always be my favourite, the hotter the better.  But autumn talks to my artistic soul.  Autumn writing always has its own special flavour, just like the rain and the woodsmoke.

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