I'm a summer gal, but I've got to say that the vibrant orangey-greeny-gold effusing through the windows has filled me with a sort of autumnal bliss.
Now that I've morphed into a dedicated, uber-scheduled writer, I'm going to face the test of Writing Through the Seasons (sounds like a boring literary piece). In other words, I'll be stretched to survive winter.
I grew up in a cold house with high ceilings and a piddly heating system. I spent winter nights curled up in front of the hot air register, blocking the heat from the rest of my family while we watched TV. I went through college winters wearing gloves to class to keep my fingers warm after having practiced my scales and arpeggios early in the morning.
The pianist and the writer in me both hate winter.
It's the gray light, too, that gets me. As the years pass, it gets worse. Ugh, the gloomy cloud cover, the damp hanging in the kitchen when I make the coffee each morning. The endless string of dull, cold, dull, gray, dull winter days.
I'm determined to bottle today's autumn brilliance and sip it slowly while I write through the winter. I will be untouched by the season I hate most.
My writing will prevail. And so will my attitude.
I mean, who wants to live with a grouchy female for three months of every year?
So that my autumn pledge. What's yours?
Oh. And all you jubilant, I-love-snow-and-frosty-windows-and-ice-cold-steering-wheels types? I love you, anyway. And if you can share one truly redeeming thing about winter, I'm all ears.
Christmas doesn't count. It's the only thing that NEEDS winter. Once it's over, I'm ready for April.
I'm all ears!