An invigorating Autumn chill is settling in the air – the first hint of my favourite season.
It means looking forward to an early morning caramel macchiato warming the body from the inside, to cosy sweaters, long walks in the park.
It’s a season of nostalgia, for remembering childhood leaf fights and jumping in huge piles of them, small fragments tangling in blond hair. Of pressing the pretty ones in the pages of the big yellow phone book. Of collecting fallen chestnuts from the sidewalks.
It smells of earth and the great outdoors, of cedar chests and new books.
Tastes of hot apple cider and iced doughnuts on Halloween, the all-American pumpkin pie and Thanksgiving feast.
Autumn is a season of rejuvenation. It was always the beginning of the school year, a time of learning and waking up from the lazy summer holidays.
And of course, there’s that satisfying crunch of walking over a mosaic of fallen leaves and the trees an explosion of fire-colours.
It is strange, when you mention nostalgia. The whole time I lived in South Africa, I hate August and couldn’t figure out why. But now that I am back, this whole period between August and November reminds me of the Autmns I spent in England, when I was growing up. I think my body never reconciled the opposite seasons in South Africa.