My Writing

Not Quite An Essay 2

So this is my favourite time of year and therefore I found myself writing another sort of expression or something about it similar to the coffee one.

Unlike the change into summer this one doesn’t happen gradually. You just wake up one day and the grey clouds that cling low down in the sky don’t look like the kind that are going to slowly lift to reveal blue skies and  warm sun. No, they look like the kind that will bring a continual, slightly annoying, drizzle with them. The kind that will open up to a heavy shower at some point, but on the whole seem content to just make everything gradually damp and sticky.

The clouds bring with them a chill which means all of a sudden you have to scramble about and remember where you stashed your scarves and gloves for the warmer months. Or alternatively you unexpectedly find yourself pouring over the wide variety of knitwear available to you now. Desperately trying to find the perfect one to give you instant warmth and comfort from the sudden chill.

Against the grey backdrop the orange/yellow of the trees looks more pronounced. Suddenly obvious. If anything should be an indicator that the season change was coming it should have been the leaves. But in the final moments of rare heat and blazing sun the orange hue of the trees was ignored. But you notice them now. They litter the floor, an array of autumnal hues, in a stark contrast to the grey pavement or the summer green grass. They collect at the edges of pavements and trickle stray raindrops down onto the ground as they slowly wilt under the slow pressure of rain. Finding the crunchy ones becomes harder to do as the rain takes them prisoner. The rain has a way of doing that.

Even if the dense grey clouds are gone one day you know that you won’t be greeted with the pleasant warmth of the sun like you used to be. Instead the bright sun and blue skies bring a harsher chill. The wind more forceful and almost inescapable, regardless of how many layers you wrap yourself in. The kind of cold that forces you to take solace in warm shops or to cradle hot drinks in slightly numb and red fingered hands to warm up temporarily. It’s never for long enough though. The cold is always waiting for you outside.

Exhaling outside brings with it wisps of white that curl around you before they are also captured by the frozen chill. In the harsh sunlight everything looks crisper and harsher, the frost on car windows and the crystallised dew on the grass waiting to be crunched into the ground. The cobwebs that you can so easily become caught up in accidentally during summer become crystallised and harder to miss and in some lights they could even be considered pretty. It all goes to highlight that gone are the soft hues of summer.

Even the streets change a little bit, take on a more monochrome theme. Thick black winter coats and occasional brightly coloured parkas become the norm, create an unwilling sense of uniformity against the cold. It becomes hard to ignore the assortment of umbrellas firmly clutched in peoples’ hands always prepared for rain now, the clouds always look ready to burst at the exact moment you’re left without an umbrella. It’s risky to never have one at arm’s length.

The change is obvious in shop windows too. Displays of chunky knitwear and waterproof (ish) clothes don mannequins instead of short shorts, skirts or crop tops. Supermarkets decorate with cobwebs and spiders and the odd witch’s face. Pumpkin spiced everything creeps its way into your life until it is unavoidable and you have to accept the change. The change is made more obvious by the odd snow-capped products and displays that start appearing next to or amongst all the orange and green.

The season has well and truly started and it’s not going anywhere soon. At least not until you wake up one day and realise that your good old reliable thick coat is not needed anymore and you can temporarily say goodbye to all your knitwear.

Until that day though it’s here.


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