A Lament for Autumn
I often wish there was a place where someone could go where it’s autumn every day. It could be a place born of collective imagination, a town, a street, or even a trail in the woods. The foliage would remain afire with vibrant colors and the scent of cinnamon and spice would always linger in the air. There would be somber, grey days mixed with soft sunlight while a cool breeze would cool your skin. Sounds of Celtic violin would calm your soul and a crackling fire would warm those sitting around the hearth of a stalwart cottage. Children would bear grins of excitement because the promise of pumpkins and ghost stories would be ever-present. I wish for this place. I wish for this place often.
Cover photo (stock image)