It’s fair to say that I don’t really have a favorite season, unless it’s the season I’m in. Okay, if I’m going to be honest, maybe winter is the only season that isn’t quite as favorite as the others. But we don’t have to go there yet.
One of the things I like about autumn is the abundant pops of orange as I’m driving through the countryside. Pumpkin patches! Happy bulging orbs of orange, still on vines, stacked on wagons, propped on fence posts. Images of pumpkin pie swirl in my brain and the thought teases my tongue. Yum!
And what other season actually gets two names? With rainstorms spewing and leaves descending in showy piles, autumn tends to fall all over herself.
I identify with autumn as she stumbles along, trying to hold on to summer, bumping against winter, with not a single grasp of graceful spring.