It’s about this time of year that I start feeling a little melancholy. First, I wonder why, and then I notice that it’s getting dark at seven pm. By the beginning of November things have evened out a bit but until then, I keep feeling a little sigh inside everywhere I go.
I find myself turning on all the lights in the house to push back the blanket of autumn evening that manages to settle on my shoulders anyway. I put on my pajamas straightaway after work. I don’t like going out in the evenings much for a while, preferring to curl up on the couch and work on a crochet project or a book. Husband keeps finding me pressed up against him like a cuddle-happy cat.
I love how autumn smells of wet leaves and spices, of crisp sunshine days and hot chocolate nights. I love Halloween for dressing up, candy corn, and pictures of black cats. And Thanksgiving of course, a grand meal set in a flurry of wind and leaves, and visits with the strangers you call family.
The world is winding down for a few months, settling itself for a rest of its own, pulling up that blanket of darkness to hush us all, if only for a little while.