When all the smoking, smoldering, blackened furnaces of summer finally die out…
…here’s what we love about the next season to come:
Burning leaves. Oranges, reds, and deadly browns. The Earth awash in an ocean of color…and beautiful death.
Grey skies far as the eye can sea. Nights during which the rain never ends. Walking beneath the storms while everyone else flees indoors.
Fire. Lovely fire. And the smells of scorched leaves smoking in the pre-dusk air.
Twilight. The wind. And all the creatures abandoning their homes for the promise of warmth.
Jack o lanterns glowing at night. Pumpkin seeds drying on the porch. Strands of pumpkin guts dangling from children’s fingers.
Crickets wailing long before evening. Every forest alive with music. The thunderous volume of insects just before the long, slow sleep.
Green grass turned to ashes. Wind blasting the dry rickets. Tall weeds turned to creaking old men.
Cracks in the glorious cloud cover. Lasting just long enough to wink at us before closing in with a thousand greys.
November Coming Fire. And every album like it.
Murderous movies. Villains stalking All Hallows Eve. Ghouls, ghosts, and goblins wandering the night in search of candy.
The creepy masks these kids wear. Sackcloth costumes…scary as hell.
Nothing beats autumn. It’s the best season for writing, the best season for existing. Summer is great for sports, spring for de-hibernating, and winter for all things indoors, but autumn……sips of Scotch on the back patio, bbq’s, meaningful football, All Hallows, walking in the drizzle, sleeping with your windows open, listening to the wind, black cats, fallow fields, cawing crows, spooky twilights, grey dawns, crimson leaves, crackling fireplaces, roasted marshmallows, camping, creeping, raking, burning, and watching the world get ready to sleep.
I’m glad you’re here, autumn. Let’s do this again.
J Edward Neill
End of the World Philosopher
This is a mirror of my original Tessera Guild article (from last year.)
J Edward Neill is a surreal artist and author. He lives in a cavern in North GA, where the sun shines too much, but the bourbon is fantastic.
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