Last week I sorted through my wardrobe, collecting all my pastel and lightweight things and packing them away until next year. From storage I pulled out my favorite knits and long sleeve dresses, I unearthed my collection of berets and accessed the state of my tights (I'll have to replace some). I even inspected my shoes, putting away sandals and open-toed heels in favor of brogues and loafers. Yet, just as I prepared for autumn, summer came back. This past weekend was sunny and warm and felt like a holiday in some far-flung destination, not my humble Orchard County with its reddening Bramleys and scythed wheat fields. (Although I should add that having become acclimatized to the weather here, 60 degrees now feels like 80 to me; so what feels like the return of summer to me would feel like the start of fall to my family living in warmer climes...) It looks like autumn in certain corners; the apple orchards are full of ripened fruit, the heather is turning gloriously purple, the rowan berries are bright as rubies, but for one brief weekend it hasn't felt like autumn. The weather forecast assures me this last gasp of summer won't linger long, soon it will turn mizzling and grey and those newly resurrected sweaters will come in handy. If you can't tell, despite having no love for rainy days and darker skies, I am craving our fall season. I'm looking forward to long walks with our dog Solomon and watching him chase falling leaves--he has already enjoyed chasing a few dancing seed puffs from the fading fireweed that fills our local park. I'm eager to collect conkers and bake my favorite Victorian plum pastry I only make in September. I want to weave a dozen crowns and wreaths from wheat and birch leaves and red ivy. When autumn passes and winter begins I won't be ready to let go of that season, but there is something to be said for the fleeting seasons and making a ceremony of them. I treasure these autumn things because I won't get to enjoy them at other times of the year...
CONVERSATION