falling for fall

There is a distinct feeling in the air more so than any other time of the year when autumn is upon us. A crisp smell invades the olfactories, the sun goes to sleep increasingly earlier, and my muscles and joints stiffen with the frigid still of early mornings. With the onslaught of any season, I am always overwhelmed with a desire to change. I feel this sensation ten-fold when September rolls around. By Sunday afternoon, it was in full swing.

Having shirked my domestic responsibilities the week prior due to a robust social calendar, I took advantage of my weekend to cease neglecting the laundry, litter box, dust bunnies and powder room. What happened, however, was more than a brisk tidying of our abode. Instead, I found myself digging through closets, dumping my makeup on the bathroom floor (I have about as many cosmetics as four Hollywood makeup artists and eight transvestites put together—it’s bad), and moving furniture to vacuum. It’s curious to me that these feelings are so involuntarily roused based upon a simple alteration of the earth’s tilt on her axis.

With that simple change, I want to hunker down and for lack of a better word, “nest.” I began to light candles, turn up the forties music, and clutter my mind with quandaries of which cozy autumn tasks I should undertake. I’ve decided that I intend to get back into canning and baking so I should be able to sprinkle my blog with some Martha Stewart-esque inspiration in the coming months.

In the mean time (until more jet-setting can be recounted), I have written the below as an ode to fall and included a picture I drew which may allude to my more mellowed feelings of home-bodiness as of late.

Autumn leaves
No sense of dread
Despite the raindrops on my head
Despite the darkness
Chilled and strong
Autumn makes me sing a song
Instills a feeling
Full of hope
Its whistling winds help me cope
Cope with loss
Of plants, of greens
And of the changing of the scenes
The chipmunks quiet
The leaves, they fall
But still I quite enjoy it all.