Snapped last weekend: Rouge Park
I’d’ve thought it more your style to sneak in.
I mean, it’s not like those leaves turn colour overnight: it happens on the sly, doesn’t it.
But nobody could’ve missed your arrival today.
Oh, sure, the sky was grey in the morning. There was even a skitter of rain.
But then the dullness turned to near-dark. And then you upped the ante.
I was drenched and chilled by the time I lugged home my bags of books from the Vic College Booksale.
Actually, I was so wet that, even though I peeled off my jeans and socks as soon as I stepped inside the door, my bare feet left a trail behind me as I brought my books into the living room and dried them off with a clean towel, and stacked them on the floor in front of the oscillating heater. (The books first, then my feet.)
But you are still my favourite season. (And the books have recovered nicely, only one of them with a soft ripple at its top edge, and that’s okay because I still love it.)
I’m writing you this letter partly just to say hello again. Because it’s been awhile.
And also because I’ve been thinking a lot this year about how important letters are.
I’m going to be spending some time with them on Fridays.
At least for as long as you’re in these parts. And maybe longer. If it gets to be a habit.
It’s another Friday Fugue. You probably didn’t notice the last one here.
That’s because it started in the spring and wrapped up right before you arrived last year. (It was centred around books about books and, so, Fridays were all about that, variations on a bookish theme.)
But I think you’ll like this one. All your pretty leaves will be turning colours, falling, and turning to mulch. And I’ll be reading letters.
Maybe I’ll even write you another one. Before you go, Dear Autumn.
PS Dear Reader. Please tell me about your favourite books of letters. Or your own favourite letters. Or your favourite books about people who love letters. Add to my Friday reading lists. Or, just write me a letter at the bottom of mine and tell me what the weather’s like in your parts these days. Please, do!
Surely you’ve read 84 Charing Cross Road? I haven’t read too many epistolary books but I do enjoy them. Autumn is just creeping into southeastern Pennsylvania. It was cool for a week or two but more recently we’ve had a bit of humidity. I keep having to change my sleeping attire (oops, was that too much information?) But by mid-October we’ll be well and truly into autumn here. It’s my favorite season!
Dear Laura,
Oh, I have. I have. But I should re-read it. Because it’s just so wonderful.
I hope that sharing that stuff about your sleeping attire wasn’t considered TMI by other readers, because I was peeling off my jeans up there.
The tops of the maple trees are definitely turning here, now: it’s not a spotty thing anymore, but a trend.
Maybe I can add some letter-writing stories to your TBR list; I can already think of one you’d love.
BIP
PS I’ve been reading Edith Wharton.
Dear BIP,
I love epistolary books! Last Days of Summer is a good one, more YA though. Clara Callen is really really good, plus it’s Canadian. Carol Shields has one – A Celibate Season. I’ve got 15 tagged in my librarything library.
The weather in PEI? Summer got very confused, and mixed up July and September. It’s been warm and muggy here – just lovely. But then, falls have been much warmer. As a kid, I remember planning Halloween costumes that you had to be able to wear a snowsuit under them, while my son dressed as a basketball player a couple years ago, and wore a pair of shorts and a tanktop, and was not cold. Crazy!
raidergirl3
Dear Raidergirl,
I haven’t heard of that one: do you think I’d still like it even though it’s about baseball and I haven’t watched a game since I was 12?
Isn’t it funny how we chart Hallowe’en by the weather: I wonder if it’s like that in other countries when it’s not so dramatically on the cusp of seasons.
I would write a longer letter, but I have to go and check out your LT pages now!
BIP
PS I loooooved Clara Callan. Maybe I should re-read?