It’s autumn and I forgot and now I’m sending you an autumn blog post because how can I not when I love autumn?
I always think I have a favourite season but each time a new one comes along I change my mind. But I honestly think my favourite season is autumn. It used to be winter, not just because of my birthday, but because I really like wearing jumpers that are too big and bulky scarves that attack your chin and socks that no one knows you’re wearing except for you. Sometimes I think spring is my favourite, but only when it’s leading into it because my hay-fever isn’t crazy then. I like when you can first feel the change in the atmosphere; the shift from simple cold to a warm breeze, the first smell of mown grass. And then pollen attacks my nose and my eyes and it just isn’t as fun as it looks.
Summer is never my favourite because sweat.
But I do like wearing a dress without worrying if it goes with a jumper and stockings. I like swimming knowing it’ll be a good temperature when you jump in. Christmas is my favourite time of year even though summer isn’t my favourite season. I don’t think that’s logical, but it makes sense at the same time.
But autumn, I think, is my favourite. It is the season I consistently love.
It doesn’t drag on like winter does. It’s simply there and then it’s not, and it has some of the good qualities of winter (scarves and jumpers) without the can’t-feel-your-toes-aspect. I like how you can go outside in autumn and feel the wind on your face without it freezing your nose off; it’s just refreshing. Sometimes a bit too refreshing, but there’s something pleasant about it all the same. I also just really like wearing jeans, and autumn is good jeans weather. (I bought two pairs of jeans after church this afternoon and I’m honestly so excited and happy I just want to wear them all the time. I love jeans. So keen, campers, so keen.)
It’s autumn and I just put on some berry-scented body butter, and I wonder if that’ll ever become boring. I just lit a candle, and I wonder if I’ll ever not want to. I just wiped off my make-up and I wonder if that feeling of freshness afterward will ever grow old.
It’s autumn and I’m currently listening to some music that I haven’t in at least six months. It’s nice. It’s strange how something can be so familiar without giving you a specific memory. I like it though; it’s warming without taking up much thought.
It’s autumn and I’m wearing a cardigan, and if that’s not autumn I don’t know what is.
This blog post isn’t about much at all except for acknowledging autumn, which I don’t think is a bad thing. Maybe to improve the reading of this post you can listen to the autumn playlist I made last year. Still a winner.