Hi Tyler! I do like the poem. Crisp and refreshing, as I prefer my autumn mornings. I definitely shared your impressions of the impact of the school year on our northern hemisphere seasons when my hair was one color and “in full bloom”. But as I have aged, the third quarter of the year has become my favorite because it is “seasoned”, “most abundant”, “celebratory”, re-affirming” and “prepared for what is to come”. I now see winter as “a blizzard of forbearance”; spring as “an endless wait for brighter days”, and summer as “more sweat than sweetness” or too much too fast too often”. But your haiku expresses my shared sentiment that fall is refreshing, colorful, and renewing in the sense that it confirms all the work and planning of the past year have been worth it. And as such it is a pleasure to enjoy the harvest of your labors.
I adored this so much. Autumn is my very favorite season. Gatsby is one of my very favorite novels. You are my very favorite poet. What a delightful Sunday edition. 🍁🍂
I am with you 100%. Fall is when I come alive. It is my very favorite season, despite the fact that I've lived in Texas all my life where fall is a questionable season. But for me, it goes beyond weather. It's a state of mind, a way of being. It's a seismic shift that happens to my soul every year like clockwork on September 1st. I love it so much.
Oh wow, that Typewriter series #2379 is so beautiful, I think one of my faves that you've written!
I'm personally not a fan of winter, at least the one I get here in Alberta. So autumn makes me shudder at the thought of what's to come. But in and of itself, I LOVE autumn. It is so beautiful. The dichotomies that exist in this fleeting season just sing to my heart. The stillness, the frenzy. The warm sun and icy chill to the wind. The gorgeous light that doesn't last long enough. The crisp freshness and the ancient smell of decay. I love autumn dearly and she breaks my heart. It's the ultimate artist/poet/writer's season.
As I sit here on this September day, in a puddle of my own butt sweat, on a plastic chair, waiting for a school event to begin in the balmy 108° heat and humidity of the tropical Caribbean region of Guatemala, it occurred to me that this was the best moment to respond to your post! Known as the Land of Eternal Spring, and located only 15° North of the Equator, we don’t really have marked changes of the seasons in the traditional sense. We have hot, hot and wet, really hot, and really wet. During the really wet, we all wear our sweaters and trade in our flip flops for socks and shoes and put a comforter on the bed and actually wear PJs. I got a pair of fake uggs at the thrift store for a buck and it was one of my best purchases to date. The really wet season is my cozy season. Usually it’s also hurricane season and flood season so it’s not quite pumpkin spice lattes and falling leaves, but it’s cozy, and we bundle up and hunker down.
Right now it’s hot and wet season. It’s hot and sunny in the day time and rainy at night. We have tremendous storms at night with tremendous thunder and lighting shows that shake the earth and electrify the air. Winds that rip the trees up from their roots and send them crashing through roofs.
Our school year here runs January to October. The kids are off over Christmas when we have our coldest weather. The days start to warm up with the start of school. It goes from really wet, to hot, to really hot, to hot and wet. The changes are marked around the solstices and equinox. And crops are planted accordingly. The Mayan calendar may have ended but thankfully our world did not. Although these seasons seem to be shifting with the harsh reality of climate change, this is happening everywhere sadly.
In the land of Eternal Spring, it is lush and green all year round but we do have some lovely trees that turn colour not because of their leaves but thanks to their flowers and it reminds me of the Canadian Autumns of my youth. Soon it will be time to pull out my sweaters and shake out my fake uggs for scorpions who may be sleeping in them. To me, it’s like the stage of the caterpillar’s life when it is preparing its cocoon for the impending metamorphosis of the new year to come. But until then I will continue to sweat in the heat all day and be lulled to sleep by the torrential rains beating down on my tin roof.
So beautiful! You have captured the essence of fall. Thank-you for putting feelings into words and sharing those words with us each week.
Hi Tyler! I do like the poem. Crisp and refreshing, as I prefer my autumn mornings. I definitely shared your impressions of the impact of the school year on our northern hemisphere seasons when my hair was one color and “in full bloom”. But as I have aged, the third quarter of the year has become my favorite because it is “seasoned”, “most abundant”, “celebratory”, re-affirming” and “prepared for what is to come”. I now see winter as “a blizzard of forbearance”; spring as “an endless wait for brighter days”, and summer as “more sweat than sweetness” or too much too fast too often”. But your haiku expresses my shared sentiment that fall is refreshing, colorful, and renewing in the sense that it confirms all the work and planning of the past year have been worth it. And as such it is a pleasure to enjoy the harvest of your labors.
Feijoa Season.
AKA the Best Season.
💛💚🖤🤍✨️
@joanneviolet. I have never tasted the Feijoa fruit. Does it really taste like pineapple?
With a more custard apple consistency?
It went well with the booze.
I'm so glad that you feel it too, this strange pull of this strange season. Feels good it's a shared thing.
“Drowning in the memories of my life”
What a perfect line!
The phoenix must rise in fall, for the dragon flies for the end each winter with the arrival of a new year, no wonder their colors burn golden.
:) I am so glad you liked that one. You're right, right on the money.
I adored this so much. Autumn is my very favorite season. Gatsby is one of my very favorite novels. You are my very favorite poet. What a delightful Sunday edition. 🍁🍂
Yo, Sad Girl.
Happy Autumn & Season of our girl, Clara x
🍂Happy Autumn, my friend! 🍁
Sad girl forever.
This means more than you know, and I hope you know it now. :)
I am with you 100%. Fall is when I come alive. It is my very favorite season, despite the fact that I've lived in Texas all my life where fall is a questionable season. But for me, it goes beyond weather. It's a state of mind, a way of being. It's a seismic shift that happens to my soul every year like clockwork on September 1st. I love it so much.
YES! With the "ember" months, comes the shift. Always.
Our eyes aren't built for looking back.
Wowsers, TKG.
Way to gutpunch.
Clara Season & Sad Girl Autumn?
Also marks Term 1, and maybe into Term 2 being well into gear. (Climate change, you bitchface.)
Swimming carnivals giving way to netball. Coming home in the dark, when we yearn to follow the sun.
Chasing sunsets & thanking sunrises for another chance to live in the season.
Spring is marked by certain things here. And, my hometown?
The city blooms.
And, we thank our Southern Skies as this land was never ours.
And, the gym rats brace.
Because we loved the quiet of Autumn & Winter.
Where it was about showing up for yourselves & your village.
Chin lifts & fist bumps.
New PBs & staying the course.
And now?
We gotta share with the Summer Body seekers & those outta hibernation.
Guess what?
You have a body.
How lucky you are.
Act like it.
This is beautiful.
Oh wow, that Typewriter series #2379 is so beautiful, I think one of my faves that you've written!
I'm personally not a fan of winter, at least the one I get here in Alberta. So autumn makes me shudder at the thought of what's to come. But in and of itself, I LOVE autumn. It is so beautiful. The dichotomies that exist in this fleeting season just sing to my heart. The stillness, the frenzy. The warm sun and icy chill to the wind. The gorgeous light that doesn't last long enough. The crisp freshness and the ancient smell of decay. I love autumn dearly and she breaks my heart. It's the ultimate artist/poet/writer's season.
Favorite time of year!!!
As I sit here on this September day, in a puddle of my own butt sweat, on a plastic chair, waiting for a school event to begin in the balmy 108° heat and humidity of the tropical Caribbean region of Guatemala, it occurred to me that this was the best moment to respond to your post! Known as the Land of Eternal Spring, and located only 15° North of the Equator, we don’t really have marked changes of the seasons in the traditional sense. We have hot, hot and wet, really hot, and really wet. During the really wet, we all wear our sweaters and trade in our flip flops for socks and shoes and put a comforter on the bed and actually wear PJs. I got a pair of fake uggs at the thrift store for a buck and it was one of my best purchases to date. The really wet season is my cozy season. Usually it’s also hurricane season and flood season so it’s not quite pumpkin spice lattes and falling leaves, but it’s cozy, and we bundle up and hunker down.
Right now it’s hot and wet season. It’s hot and sunny in the day time and rainy at night. We have tremendous storms at night with tremendous thunder and lighting shows that shake the earth and electrify the air. Winds that rip the trees up from their roots and send them crashing through roofs.
Our school year here runs January to October. The kids are off over Christmas when we have our coldest weather. The days start to warm up with the start of school. It goes from really wet, to hot, to really hot, to hot and wet. The changes are marked around the solstices and equinox. And crops are planted accordingly. The Mayan calendar may have ended but thankfully our world did not. Although these seasons seem to be shifting with the harsh reality of climate change, this is happening everywhere sadly.
In the land of Eternal Spring, it is lush and green all year round but we do have some lovely trees that turn colour not because of their leaves but thanks to their flowers and it reminds me of the Canadian Autumns of my youth. Soon it will be time to pull out my sweaters and shake out my fake uggs for scorpions who may be sleeping in them. To me, it’s like the stage of the caterpillar’s life when it is preparing its cocoon for the impending metamorphosis of the new year to come. But until then I will continue to sweat in the heat all day and be lulled to sleep by the torrential rains beating down on my tin roof.