Some say it is because I was an October baby, others believe it is because I am a Libra, still others disagree completely with me. But I have always maintained that Autumn, for me, is the best season of all!
Against the brazen optimism that is spring, the carefree spirit of summer and the crisp wonderland that is winter, Autumn is moodier and darker, which suits me just fine.
Fires and candles dredge up the mystical and magical, forefathers and the primal. Baking bread, cakes and preparing stews fills the home with a comforting hug and sense of belonging. Foraging for nuts, cones, branches and dried leaves or visiting pumpkin patches restores the child inside and allows deep hidden memories to float back up to the surface.
The shapes and colors, textures and scents of fall inspire me to make connections and develop my aesthetic knowledge.
My choice of reading material shifts as well in the Fall. I find the books I gravitate towards to be darker and denser (possibly more cerebral reads as well). Perhaps it is a subconscious choice influenced by circadian rhythm preparing us for the prolonged hours of darkness ahead. It could also be the entire feel good factor borne of a great read, a crackling fire, a cozy blanket and cup of cocoa; A snapshot of a perfect moment that we wish to partake in and make our own.
The Moral Animal, by Robert Wright, Murasaki Shikibu’s The Tale of Gengi (which truthfully was left to the wayside for months until now), A Natural Curiosity by Margaret Drabble, Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer and Aldous Huxley’s Antic Hay are the reads currently occupying my nightstand and my thoughts.
I love the sight of my bedside table piled high with so many wonderful books. They are there patiently waiting for me, arousing a similar anticipation to that of the arrival of guests, Christmas or a future trip.
Words selected, collected and organized on pages by authors that enrich, enrage, please and challenge us, comfort and appease us, make fun of us and make us laugh at ourselves. Books that have kept me company during this past year of isolation due to the pandemic and that allowed for an escape when things seemed unbearable.
I can’t wait till tonight when I will again hunker down under my cloud of a duvet against a pile of equally soft pillows and lose myself in the words.