Let's see what Google says:
Look guys, it's a really creepy looking pumpkin! I am honestly of the opinion it thinks human flesh is tasty and would love to fly from the screen and chomp on my face.
Because we always think of adorable puppies that might be in the middle of a fight with leaves.
The cat woman in me approves.
I have been lucky enough to hike right by this during the Autumn. It is indeed this pretty.
Now, what do I have to say about Autumn?
Mwahahaha.
I don't hear the word "Autumn" and think of creepy pumpkins and kitties in leaves and crazy leaf necklaces about to kill an adorable puppy or ohmygoodness, that's a pretty view with leaves on fire. Nope. I tend to get that look on my face people get when they hear their name. Oh, right. I am hearing my name.
See, names were very important to my parents. Or my mom at least. I was never around for the hunt for the perfect name on my dad's behalf. Mom would throw names left and right until she found the perfect one. My one sister was due a week before Christmas, so she wanted something winter-y but not obnoxiously Christmas-y. Everyone else was given Biblical names. Heck, even winter-child sister got a name that appears in the Bible.
I'm the stand alone, non-Biblical name. I wasn't supposed to be born when I was. I was supposed to be a Summer Baby and my name would either be Sage (wise and a plant. My mom was a hippie) or Hunter (That would be me dad. ), depending on gender. Then I refused to come out of the womb for a couple of weeks and whoops! Autumn descended on the northern hemisphere and isn't Autumn such a pretty name anyway? So believe me, I've had plenty of time to think about the season I bear the name of.
By the way, dear parents, yeah, sure. Pretty name. Don't! Naming your child a season is a curse. Every time she meets someone she will hear the same old joke, over and over. She will want to kiss the wonderful person who doesn't make some supposedly clever quip about it. Also, when she is in primary school, every time her name is mentioned in something the teacher is reading, the rest of the class will giggle and make some comment.
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| look! There's a whole group of people agreeing with me! |
Anyway. Back to Autumn and me not going on tangents.
Autumn is gorgeous in the area I live in. The sky seems bluer, the days are often the perfect temperature. The gradual change of the leaves covering the land is amazing. Nature is just screaming to be looked at and enjoyed. Take a hike up a mountain and by george, the view will be absolutely breathtaking.
We used to visit Vermont every autumn and stay in a house nestled into the crease of a mountain. We would hike up an old dirt trail with rocks to climb over and trees dangling their jewels. A little pond would reflect the colors of the sky and trees and birds would chirp their good-byes until they came back for spring. We would reach the top with the old cairn my great-grandfather built and two benches, one wooden, one stone, and find ourselves holding out breath so as not to disturb the beauty we were alive in. Looking down we saw fields with green green grass and one littered with specks of orange we might later raid. There was a sparkling sliver of blue cutting across a meadow. A brave tree reaching it's lonely arms, up, up to the sky, leaves skittering away every time a strong breeze blew. There was so much magic surrounding us as we finally breathed again and began darting between trees and laughing and giggling and teasing. My brother would pretend to conquer some age-old enemy hidden in the woods as I would search for hidden traces of fairy life. My parents would hold hands and smile at us, passing whomever was the baby at the time back and forth. To me, that is Autumn.
Autumn is also a season, not just memories. It's a season so alive in color, in nature's mimicry of flames, and so so beautiful. But it's a season tinged with sorrow. Yes, the sweeps of land are alive, but they won't be for long. I know I'm a pessimist, but let's face it, autumn is the season of dying. When I was little I saw winter as the season as death, but that's not really it. Everything is already dead or sleeping in winter. It's quiet and peace. White.
So it's autumn where everything dies. Slowly, then all at once it's all gone. The beauty doesn't completly disguise the coldness that's coming or the dreary, oft overcast skies. It's a farewell, beautifully done, but a farewell none the less.
Guys, this is another reason not to name your child Autumn. She will grow up with this sense of impending doom all her life and as if everything bad is her fault, because she's the season of dying, so of course things around her are going to die.
But, all in all, such a lovely time to wander through woods. I suggest it.
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