Why Cosy, Beautiful Autumn Doesn’t Suck.

Why Cosy, Beautiful Autumn Doesn't Suck.

Autumn is coming… you can smell the change in the air. Cinnamon on lattes. Cinnamon on porridge. Cinnamon on cinnamon. Approved.

It’s coming; you can smell the change creeping into the edges of the air. Up and down the country, people are discarding the sundresses and cut-off jorts in favour of flame-retardant slouchy slacks and hipster sweaters with knitted ducks on them. Vainly, the British masses keep rubbing suncream into their shoulders in a desperate, delusional attempt to pretend the summer is still in the first flush of its 30 degree youth. It’s not to be… autumn is coming.

I love autumn. It’s my favourite time of year. I’m not much of a sun-worshipper anyway, thanks to a sun allergy rather radically named Polymorphic Light Eruption (which would also be a good name for a band; better than Neutral Milk Hotel, anyway). I tend to scuttle into shady places like a wary spider. I mutter to myself and tug my UVA-repelling white gloves further over my wrists, hissing at people enjoying a glass of wine in sunny pavement cafes like a B-movie vamp thirsting for Sauvignon Blanc.

I adore autumn for its beauty and cosy little pleasures; from a walk through the countryside of shifting colours to stocking up on ingredients for wholesome stews.

Despite the nation being in mourning for summer, the coming season doesn’t suck and here’s why.

1. Kicking through the leaves.

Autumn is simply beautiful. The great drifts of crunchy russet leaves; the sharp smell of the changing season in your nostrils; ripening hazelnuts and swelling conkers in their prickly green cases. The woodlands curl into a vibrant wonderland of fiery orange, the smell of bonfire smoke rolls through the air. It’s a truly magical time of year for the senses.

Mind the dog sh*t.

2. Say ‘welcome back!’ to cinnamon-flavoured everything.

Cinnamon on lattes. Cinnamon on porridge. Cinnamon on cinnamon. Approved.

3. The Teletubby look makes a rad comeback

Remember the days of piling on the layers until you essentially became a kind of cloth snail carrying its home on its back? Those glory days are here again. Any body-related angst generated by the media’s unrealistic ideas about the Great Summer Strip-Off are cocooned in mummy wrappings of self-inflicted insulation and comfort eating of baked beans, and the country once more morphs into a nation of shambling, sack-like creatures muffled by our jumpers.

4. Party like it’s time to soften your existential despair

The nights begin to draw in and everyone is uncomfortably aware of winter looming ahead, baring the teeth of its annual public transport ‘wrong kind of snow’ catastrophe. What can we do to stave off our rising panic and crushing sense of futility? That’s when the party invitations begin to roll in, disguised as Halloween Night, Bonfire Night, and Another Bleak Day Ending in Y Night. They are the RSVP equivalents of grasping someone by their lapels, gazing deeply into their eyes and croaking, ‘It’s getting dark out there; did you know the darkness without mirrors my own internal collapse? I do not wish to be alone.’

5. It’s the Circle of Life/And it Moves us All

I enjoy the feeling of the year moving on. I love the sense of possibility that fills me when I first breathe in the change in the wind. We are not meant to be static beings, stuck in any one season of our lives. The dramatic shift from summer to the second half of the year, from green to red and brown, is a reminder of the necessary turning of our own worlds. It’s a time for reflection, a time for stamping our chilly feet around the campfire, a time to watch our breath curl away in the air before us as we ponder the particulars of our lives.

Roll on, autumn, you gorgeous redhead, you.


write for Mookychick