Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Lady Autumn is a Dancer

Autumn has come and she's here to dance for me! :-)

The last few days have been so crisp and cool and breezy. It's a very welcome change. I was running out of patience with Summer; if she had a face, I would slap it. But lady Autumn is welcome in my house at any time. I wish she could stay forever. She's my favourite of the weird sisters.

When I was young, Summer was like a playful cousin, full of fun and freedom and warm embraces. Now she's grown tiresome and hateful, punishing us with her hot tongue and ferocious temper.

Winter was a stranger to me in my youth; she never visited us as kids. I didn't meet her until well into my late twenties, and it was not a pleasant acquaintance then. I had heard the rumours of her bitter indifference and icy wickedness, but I wanted to believe she'd been maligned. Alas, they were all true; she struck me down and shrugged and left me to die alone in the cold. I survived that first encounter by luck and fortune and the kindness of strangers. And I'm wiser for it. I have a caged respect for her now and cautious approach. Frequently, when I hear she's coming, I find reasons to be elsewhere and excuse myself from her company.

The songs of Spring are a delight for all; a warming embrace of life and love. While I should be grateful to her for seeing Winter off, I must admit that I find Spring's dusty composure quite irritating. She rarely showers and when she dances her pungent fumes and scratchy pollens stab and scratch at me incessantly. I am quite glad to see the back of her. Or at least I would were it not for Summer thumping at the door.

But there will always be a seat at my table for Lady Autumn, the dancer.

-- for Inga