I love this time of year, when leaves change color and die right in front of me. Nothing prettier than a deceased leaf hanging from a tree in its final few moments on earth. It makes me want to wrap an oversized scarf around my neck and take a walk through the carnage. Stunning.
What I like most in this season of decay is how cozy I feel in a sweater. The air is crisp, the sun is bright, and the death rattle of falling leaves reminds me that there’s a season for everything. And this one is for dying and being dead. Makes me feel like going to an orchard and murdering some apples for pie.
Do you hear the wind gently rustling the trees? That’s the sound of a million leaves meeting their maker. Soon, I’ll rake their shriveled, broken husks, then let them rot and mold on the lawn while repeatedly saying, “I should really bag up those leaves.” What a magical time of year, when the world gives up and dies.
I love when small dogs wear sweaters and boots and shiver uncontrollably. I sit on my front porch with a warm mug of tea between my hands, watching nature fight for its life. The world feels still because it’s slipping into an extended, deep unconsciousness and/or death. Soon, the hearty bear will crawl into a hole and get as close to dying as possible by choice.
Sometimes I feel strangely sad when everything is dark, dead, and frozen. I can’t get my head right while my brain withers and begs for sunlight. Luckily, some holidays are coming up, so I can accrue debt, eat food that gives me gas, and feel anxious around my family. When the new year comes, I’ll declare, “This will be the best year yet!” Then watch new horrors unfold every day from my depression nest on the couch.
When the snow finally snuffs out the last bit of life, I look around and think, lovely. Each snowflake is unique, just like me. But without the distress of being different that leads to mental instability. Lucky! I will hurt my back shoveling my car out of the snow, so I can eventually skid into a ditch and call my dad crying.
There is truly a season for everything, and this one is for contracting the flu and every furnace dying on the coldest night of the year, which is the only time we ever need them, but they’re dead.