|A long and winding road|
(Speaking of marking the calendar, I was looking back for old Equinox posts and found one saying I missed the anniversary of this blog. Which is the same day as my grandson Grayson's birthday, yesterday. So while this blog has undergone fits and starts and changes, it was eight years ago it I started it. Happy anniversary to me. Happy birthday, dear Gray!)
But yes, it's true. Up in higher climes of latitude, seasons are easy to pick out. Even with eyes closed, the crunchy sound of leaves on the ground is an easy giveaway. From the changes in Vermont to the ones here in North Carolina, Autumn is arriving, almost exactly on time.
FYI - from The Grammarist - because I love this sort of thing and hope you do too
Autumn vs. Fall
Fall and autumn are both accepted and widely used terms for the season that comes between summer and winter. Some who consider British English the only true English regard fall as an American barbarism, but this attitude is not well founded. Fall is in fact an old term for the season, originating in English in the 16th century or earlier. It was originally short for fall of the year or fall of the leaf, but it commonly took the one-word form by the 17th century, long before the development of American English. So while the term is now widely used in the U.S., it is not exclusively American, nor is it American in origin.
Autumn came to English from the French automne in the 15th or 16th century, but it didn’t gain prominence until the 18th century. After that, while fall became the preferred term in the U.S., autumn became so prevalent in British English that fall as a term for the season was eventually considered archaic. This has changed, however, as fall has been gaining ground in British publications for some time.
So far today I've worn jeans and a fleece and a light jacket, jeans and a t-shirt, jeans and a t-shirt and a fleece and fuzzy moccasins. In the few days past, it's been shorts and a t-shirt and barefoot. Where are my socks?
From a distance, the changing colors are really beautiful, even when just starting. Up close, the truth of change isn't always so lavishly uniform. Except when it is.
I like the imperfections of change. Being in the midst of it myself, the obvious is pretty obvious. Along with a huge appreciation for youth, its pure beauty. Like seeing some object that starts up longing in my being, accepting it is well beyond my reach, and finally just really enjoying it for exactly what it is. Glad to have had it a part of my life, glad to have it over my shoulder, but damn, it sure is pretty from here.
There are so many analogies about the symbolism about this time of year. I'll share this one, because this weather brings out my old fashioned self.
Have a thoughtful Thursday. Do something time taking.
p.s. This has nothing to do with anything but the date and cuteness factors. Sept. 22, a few years back in Michigan. Oh fuzzy critters!!