It Always Stays Like An Old Friend | Unfold and Begin

Thank you to Jennifer from Unfold and Begin for this creative prompt, inspired by September and fall (my two favorite things about the year).

But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass
as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September,
it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in
the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.
Stephen King – Salem’s Lot

It’s cold but it’s comfortable. It’s the time of year before the deciduous trees fully burst with color. The Dull Period: when the lush greens of summer fade into a dullness that dims mountaintop views and backyard gardens. A passive seasonal transition ushers this part of the world into a calm (the last of the year) that is over almost immediately after it begins.

It’s cold but it’s comfortable. The air and the water, both flowing with their respective grace, the former almost soundless if it weren’t for the leaves on the trees; the latter with a gurgling rush. Both are cold, but their refreshing summer qualities are replaced with a bite only Fall can produce. The sky is the brightest color around: a cerulean so vivid and nearly uninterrupted by clouds.

It’s cold but indoors it’s comfortable. A cast iron stove full of bellowing fire warms both rooms quickly and steadily. I’m not sure how you can sit so close, but I’m glad you do; that chair always looks more empty when you’re not in it than those used by others. I’m not sure when you started using a pipe, but its sweetness is something never to be forgotten. Its scent lingers in the warm rooms, in coats hanging by the door, in my hair. As do the stories of Fall, taking place long after leaves have reached their full color, when threats of snow and ice cut a path for Winter to sprawl and settle. Hearing them a thousand times would never be enough; the natural world emits a uniquely expectant type of magic that reaches the very core of my being, but you add a spirit that excites, bores, impresses, and ultimately identifies my place. As years pass, the passive season becomes more like a friend, one that reminds and supports, but sadly, cannot sit and entertain from the comfort of a chair.


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