Autumn's the season of change, sandwiched neatly in between two different extremes. It's progression from one place to the next, and home to ten thousand pretty photo postcards featuring explosions of red orange, yellows and altogether scenes of loveliness. It can be beautiful, warm, artsy, splendid, and an all manner of other positive adjectives that can make you feel anywhere between happy and ecstatic.
Or not.
The postcards lied, because everything isn't peacefully orange at all. There's no warm breeze- there's a ****ing gale trying to not just blow the leaves down, but the actual tree. Things are cold, and wet, puddles can be the size of swamps, and raking leaves is a royal pain in the ass if they're wet and mushy. There's none of this smiling and having a good time while raking leaves, and leafblowers/suckers are one of the best inventions never fully realised: they fail to catch the leaves, but are overly keen on munching the gravel from the drive, how's the hell does that work? Even worse, none of these trees are even mine- if the leaves are from the tree of a neighbour shouldn't he be the one sweeping the damn things up?
The worst thing about autumn is that it is just that, a change. A filler season where everything changes, and things go from brilliant to shit, all in a manner of weeks. It's winter...but somehow worse, and a season that sometimes feels like it's there, only to annoy.
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1 comment:
Oh, dude, autumn's great! But mushy leaves are definitely not, and leaf-blowers are on my hit-list.
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