Ten ways I’m embracing autumn, these strange in-between days.
Cutting blooms from the hibiscus tree outside our house, stuffing them in glass bottles scattered around the house.
Harvesting tomatoes, scoffing them – sweet, juicy, their seeds dribbling down my elbows – straight from the vine
Roasting squash for tea (these, my friends – in a word: delicious.)
Porridge dotted with juicy, unctuous raisins and almonds in the mornings.
Cosy weekend afternoons, curled up with good words and chocolate buttons.
Taking myself out for (hot) coffee on weekend mornings.
Walking everywhere, now the weather has cooled. Walking through the rains.
Deadheading the roses, weeding the borders, sowing bulbs: readying for the freeze.
Knitting again, a sea-green scarf to begin the season.
Tilting my face up to the sun, soaking in the golden light.
We’re at the crux of summer; the days split between thick, oozing heat and days of damp, autumn rains. The air grows cold just before the downpours arrive, and at night a cool wind rattles through these suburban streets. You can smell it on the breeze. The first weeks of a new season remind me of those initial days in a foreign country, where the milk looks just the same yet clings differently to the roof of your mouth, where you can’t yet read the melody of the clouds and sudden storms catch you out in broad daylight, umbrella-less, soaked through.
I went into the garden on Saturday for the first time in a week and found the rhubarb leaves curled and browning, the cosmos stooping with age and the geraniums already corpses, shrivelled and long-dead. The sheets on the line were, for the first time in many months, cool to the touch. And yet summer clings on. The air sits heavy, like a shroud pulled tightly over the city, and for now the sun shines on.
How are you welcoming autumn?