Winter = Cold. Spring=rain. Summer =24/7 application of sun cream. Autumn= fun.
Everyone who knows me will know that Autumn is my favourite season. They would've heard the rants and my excited squeals... So I'm going to do it all again here on my blog (probably for more my enjoyment than yours).
Here’s why Autumn is great:
Autumn still has some of that last remaining summer heat in its sunny days
THE COLOURS! Just picture all those warm orange and chestnut brown leaves sprinkled everywhere
The cosy vibes
All the cute Instagram’s
It's time for those Pumpkin spiced lattes
It’s my favourite time of year to go on walks. All the leaves have that satisfying crunch as you walk and it's just so pretty!
AND it’s totally in to wear leggings and oversized jumpers all season (literally the comfiest and cosiest outfit).
Yeh okay so the evenings are drawing in a little earlier BUT that gives some essence of winter but not too much. It has that fresh feel when you are out in the day but with the feel of just wanting to curl up by a fire under a blanket with a hot chocolate and a book in the evening.
It also inspired one of my favourite poems; Keats' ‘To Autumn’. The imagery in the first stanza just sums up what I’m trying to say;
To Autumn
by John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And ¬fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’erbrimm’d their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Aye, where are they?
Think not of them, — thou hast thy music too,
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies
I guess rant over (for now) but here is a short video of some of my favourite Autumn photos I've taken if you need a little more persuasion.
The background music is Loa by Sunset sons.
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