Yes, I realize it isn't fall yet. Not yet. But today, as the sky turned charcoal and rain splatted down, the world around Freeman House seemed to acknowledge the eventual decline of summer and stirring of autumn. Even the thunder seemed to consent that a change is coming as it grumbled and rumbled around Freeman House, shaking the old wavy-paned windows and frightening the cat.
I opened the mailbox this evening to an assortment of fall catalogues. They got me itching for a red pea coat and pumpkins and knitted scarves. They also reminded me that somewhere I had several little cross stitch scenes that I'd done... oh, five years ago... and never had framed. I found them, miracle of miracles, and smoothed one out to read: Pumpkin, pumpkin, pumpkin bright / Autumn lantern in the night. Cute. I think I'll keep it.
I was surprised to find (on our most recent poll here) that seven of ten people who read this blog prefer fall to any other season. That's significant, don't you think? Of course, we'd never snub the silent glistening of winter or the lush beauty of spring or the happy abundance of summer. Never. It's just that fall suits us, doesn't it? The chilly air that nips noses and the leaves that skip past and the apple cider in mugs. It's romantic in a quiet sort of way. I like it. But I guess you've already surmised that... what with me rambling on about autumn in August.
I'm just saying is all. I'm just saying that change is on its way. Change is on its way, and seven out of ten of us are leaving the porch light on.
Welcome, autumn. Don't forget to stop here.