I am Autumn, hear me roar!

Autumn is always a favourite time of year for me  – I believe it is partly because I was an autumn baby.  Most of the most significant things in my life have happened in Autumn, and though meeting my beloved happened in spring, we married in Autumn.  I lost my beloved father, too, in autumn. (I will mourn for him again soon).

“through autumn’s golden gown,
we used to kick our way.
You always loved this time of year”
‘Forever Autumn’ from ‘War of the Worlds’

I love the colours; the smells; the fierceness of autumn gales which remind me to respect Nature.  I most dearly want to be in my allotment in autumn, when the hurly-burly business of spring and summer calm to the gentle out-breath of the year or the wilds of nature having one last blast of energy before the cold, quietness of winter dark sets in.  Spring is sweet as sugar, but I prefer the cinnamon taste of Autumn.

I am autumn at the moment.  This year really feels like the autumn of my life: anything but calm though, with similar bouts of frenetic, sudden storms of the soul.  I hit fifty this year, and it feels like autumn:  the  bright beauty of knowingness coupled with the sudden shock of having part of me broken (oh, it was a back injury that made me feel like I am suddenly gone from the full vigour of summer to near winter in a moment.)

My temper, almost the undoing of me as a child, is returning and I don’t know why I am so irritable.  In the summer of my life, my forties, I gained the calm, sunny nature of summer (It was an English summer, prone to the usual clouds of worry) but now I am trying to ride a tiger of emotions, and frankly, it scares me.    I feel the rise to the summit of excitement  and the gut-wrenching acceleration to the depths of despair – it is like riding a roller-coaster.  One day I am bright as golden leaves: the next I am a gale of amazing ferocity, scared to open my mouth in case I turn everything bitter as I could be.  I don’t want to be angry, so I swallow it down, but it comes back to haunt me as worry at night.  The bit in QF&P about ‘breaking down’ is so close to me at the moment – I am truly worried by my mood swings, I am scared of enjoying myself too much for the terrible ‘come down’ afterwards.  I am so scared that I will break down, I hear the brittleness of myself in my voice and I lie awake – unusually for me –  worried that I am losing that which is part of me.

Damn it all – even my hair, my lovely, long, lustrous hair (my only vanity and pride) is now turning dull and grey and falling out,  and yet…. and yet… I feel that I have never been so filled with Spirit, I am learning in leaps and bounds and coming closer, much closer.

When I am close, I am so close, so amazingly close.  Then, suddenly there is such a distance between me and the Spirit, that I feel lost and alone.
Ah, Harvest – don’t you love it?

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