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Autumn.
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Autumn.
Autumn.
I just spent a few minutes outside in the wet, and I feel really refreshed. I was wondering, what does Autumn look like where you live?
Here, it rains quite a lot. Not hard, just persistantly, like the sky is spitting at you. I really love taking walks in the rain. I'll wear a raincoat, but keep the hood down. When I get home, my hair will be completely soaked, and I'll come back into the warmth and dry off. It's one of the best feelings ever.
Occasionally, we will get a clear day. Those are my favorite, when it's cold and crisp, and you can see the blue sky reflected in the puddles.
One of my favorite parts of Autumn is seeing all the beautiful leaves. Birch and maple leaves are my favorite. We have a pair of black cats, and they look really beautiful against the vibrant backdrop of the fiery leaves. By now, almost all the leaves have fallen.
Autumn, for me, is always connected to tea and baking. My favorite kinds of tea are orange and peppermint.
I wrote a haiku about Autumn:
Wet leaves, peppermint,
rain misting on the windows.
Puddles, cats, and tea.
By the way, I should probably introduce myself. Hi, I'm Raven! I was on Chatterbox for about a year, and I left a couple of months ago. I'm back for a little while, under a different pseudonym this time.
So, how is Autumn where you live? I would love to hear all about it. (Haiku format optional. :)
submitted by Raven
(November 22, 2020 - 7:00 pm)
(November 22, 2020 - 7:00 pm)
The wheather is . . . fickle where I live. There are four seasons, and things can be weird because of climate change. :( Like, one day it'll snow, and then a few days later it's warm out. Leaves turn different colors. It is cold. I am bad at describing what it's like because I don't lie to go outside.
(November 24, 2020 - 4:55 pm)
My favorite part of autumn is the way the sky looks in the evening, just before sunset. It's no longer quite blue, but it's not dark out, either. It's an expanse of steel blue nothingness, with little variation. It's cold outside, but not so much that you can't survive without more than a sweatshirt. The leaves have all fallen, and they are become less fire colored and more of an ugly, mushy brown. Most people have done their raking, and there is nothing but small piles of leaves in the corners where no one can be bothered to clean them up, soft and decomposing after morning after morning of being soaked with dew. A few last birds fly across the expanse of the sky, tiny dark shapes going south.
(November 24, 2020 - 6:28 pm)