#ThePrompt has got me thinking about seasons. Rather apt as we move seamlessly into autumn. It’s tempting to wander down the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ route but let’s see if I can avoid getting stuck in a Romantic cul-de-dac.
Keeping It Seasonal.
Thinking about the seasons makes me think about my childhood. Winters were snowier, springs were warmer and full of bluebells, summers were sunnier and much longer and autumns were crisper with tons of conkers.
I grew up in a large city so the seasonal changes were less vital to me. Yes, the weather changed but mostly things plodded on as usual. It took a severe weather event to impact upon our lives – snow rarely closed our school in the way a more rural school may have been. Rain just meant get an umbrella out, it didn’t cause flooding that devastated lives and homes.
That’s not to say that I was unaware of the passing seasons. We celebrated the coming of autumn with Harvest Festival, summer meant Sports Day. But my childhood memories that are season-specific are summer memories. Sunbathing in the park instead of revising for A levels; family holidays in caravans around the South West; sitting in a deckchair listening to the Test commentary on the radio with Dad; leaning over the bridge to wave to the train drivers; making a den in the garden; eating lunch on the lawn; white ankle socks and sandals; paddling in the park (just don’t mention the broken glass incident).
But wait, I hear you say, The Prompt was about the favourite season, not just the one with most memories. But, I reply, my favourite season has changed! When I was young it was summer – the lovely long sunny days away from school, spending hours out and about. Now I’m older I love autumn; the cooling temperatures mean I can put more layers on (I’m always happier covered up!); the cool weather fashion of scarves, hats, gloves and woollies; the welcoming warmth of a mug of hot chocolate; soup for lunch; golden leaves fluttering down on my walk to the shops; the extra hour in bed when we change the clocks (why can’t we do that every month/week?)
So hurrah for autumn! Here’s to the woollies and the warmth, feeling cosy wrapped up in wool, coming over all John Keats every time I walk under a tree!