What is Autumn like in your part of the world?

Common wisdom has it that Autumn is the time to bend our backs, gather and put by Summer's harvest, and prepare the family for the long dark nights, barren branches, and icy coffin of winter storms.  A writer friend tells me that she doesn't produce much in the Fall, that she is storing impressions to last her through the winter, much like the grasshopper in Aesop's fable.  And in fact, when January is block solid cold and dark, she puts pen to paper and the stories do flow.

I'm seeing Autumn differently.  It's more than back to school, Friday football games, orientations and conferences for the kids, and additional loads of laundry because of heavier shirts, longer pants and knee socks. It's more than ramped-up work expectations that because summer is over, it's time to get serious and refocus on our key projects (who ever stopped?).

Autumn is busy, as she has always been. The white elm in front of my home is on fire, glowing more powerfully orange than the sunset it still has enough leaves to block. Birch is shifting from deep green to lime to butter.  Curled leaves randomly drop and cover unkempt grass, sometimes plummeting straight down, sometimes galloping and shying before settling.  The winds gust, the heavy rains boomerang off bituminous, and leaves crunch and whirl behind the cars that rush down my suburban street, trying to make home before dark falls, and cold.

I think maybe my friend is wise, that nature doesn't really slow down and that Autumn is the time to slow down, breathe deep, gather sun, and  watch the show.   

What is Autumn like in your part of the globe?

© Liz Husebye-Hartmann