October is, to me, the fairest month. It is a new year, a new love, a new life, each and every October. I don't remember when it started, this October infatuation, maybe it's always been like this. Something about the weather and the way the Sun goes down makes me happy. I've started love affairs in October, written some of my best poetry, begun my most interesting wood carvings, and taken some of my best walks.
October smells of wool and flannel and burning leaves. In my youth, it was spent in hunting grouse and rabbit, and flipping the best of my flies at the biggest trout. And of course, a month into the school year, there was always love, if not of women, at least of new knowledge. October makes me smile more than any month in winter, spring, or summer. It may just be the light, or the air. It may just be the way a woman looks in a wool sweater, or the way a trout rises, or a grouse flies. It may just be October.
No comments:
Post a Comment