Oh, autumn! You are my favourite season. No, really. I adore everything about you: your beautiful leaves, smoke-scented wind, vibrant sunsets, pumpkin patches, delectable food (warm cider, caramel apples, pie). You are really quite remarkable.
You have the best pastimes: hayrides, haunted houses, apple picking.
No wonder your charms drive poets into the arms of hyperbole:
you are the season of purest inspiration.
Your sights, sounds, smells–all are bundled away until needed. I unpack them in the heart of winter, when I do my best writing. They make life, and work, less barren. Hopeful, warm.