Trees get colourful and do their annual strip show. Such naughty exhibitionists they become in the autumn. Flying Vs of geese make haste towards the south and squirrels are picking up their nut gathering game. The sun starts slacking off and the darkness works overtime.
Around now, we begin weaving our cocoons of isolation. We fight it, but invariably the collective whole retreats to their burrows & dens for our own form of hibernation. Dark beer and whiskey sales increase. People who never play Scrabble may consider playing a round. We eat a lot of squash, apples & stew. Our iPod playlists are updated accordingly.
I love the cold until late February/early March. After that I harbour serial killer feelings towards every snow flake, the sound of shovelling causes vomiting and we no longer remember what colours are.
