As I sit and type this, the wind is raging and blustering outside my bedroom window. The trees are swaying frantically from side to side as the wind whistles and rustles through them. What’s more, it is almost dark, the sun has set, and it’s only half past six.
It feels as though there was no transitional period between summer and autumn this year. One minute the skies were blue until eight o’clock at night, and the next very much mirrors my first sentence to this post, which, as I read it back, resembles the somewhat menacing opening lines of an 19th century gothic noir novel.
Despite the unavoidable change in seasons, and the fact that I must now awake from my slumber in darkness with the sun not making an appearance until much later, I do revel in this time of year. It is dark, damp, dank and depressing yes, but it also calls for cosiness, comfort, candles and contentment. Speaking to others, it seems I’m not alone. As the winter months approach, there is less call for big, elaborate social occasions – but rather for cosy, long drawn out pub meals beside the fire, late night runs for warming hot chocolate and lazy Sunday afternoon walks.
It became a bit of a running joke at university that once autumn arrived and the dark evenings began, I did very little past four o’clock in the afternoon. In fact, if it was socially acceptable, I would go into hibernation during this time of the year altogether. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the colder seasons, but I am a sunshine gal at heart, so instead I decide to make the best of it.
In preparation for this year, I’ve started to make our house that little more homey. There’s no nicer feeling than coming home from work – in the dark – to a warm and cosy house. And although I can’t go into hibernation and wake up in spring like Moley in The Wind in the Willows – a nice fire, faux fur blankets, a White Company candle and a good book takes me pretty close.