I hit forty this month. Did I mention?! And now I’m here, forty feels like the autumn of my life.
Stay with me here, mummas. Sounds a bit weird, but I know you’ve come to expect that. Weird is my happy place, after all!
It’s kind of mathematical. I’ve always thought of life as being divided into seasons. If I’m lucky enough to make it to eighty, then my four seasons would be four little chunks of twenty.
I’ve done spring – those first twenty years when life is budding and you bounce around like an excited lamb, learning all the things. Spring was cute, but trust me, life gets cuter.
The second twenty years were my summer, in full glorious bloom. OK, so most days I was distinctly nothing like a rose garden – but you catch my drift. There was magic in the air and flowers in my hair. (I know – that rhyme was terrible!)
Here’s the Autumn of My Life
And now comes autumn, which quite honestly has always been my favourite. I was born in the autumn, so I think that makes a difference. Do you favour your birthday season?
Anyway it’s the time of year for bonfires, fireworks, pumpkins, Halloween. Rustling through crunchy leaves, sitting by crackling fires, snuggling up with a blanket and marshmallow-y hot chocolate.
Fresh autumn walks when it’s cold enough to bundle up in a scarf but not so cold your fingers feel frosty. And the colours – even a grey day can never be grey. The trees are alive with the fire of orange leaves which fall around you like bright confetti.
