May I simply say that falling on the Autumnal Equinox for a birthday does a lot to stir feelings of warmth, vibrance, and excitement in a girl. I have been anticipating chilling air, a fiery parade of colors, musty piles of fallen leaves, and such comforting sights as apple orchards, chili bowls, and pumpkin or corn fields. Because September is meant to be the lovely blending of adventurous, hot August and crisp, bright-eyed October. September is meant to be the Golden Month – in light, temperature, and color. September is perfect.
It’s raining here in Bellingham today. Again. I woke up to find the seventh day of Autumn met by bright gray skies and water falling all over the world outside my window. Every surface was being beaten as vigorously as gravity will allow in such tiny particles.
Please don’t mistake me. Rain is very romantic. I have seen it transforming tree branches into glittering chandeliers. I have seen the streets coated in diamond dust. I have seen crystal rivers running down the sidewalks. Could you ask for anything more beautiful?
And yet… there was such hope for a bronze, harvest-laden opening to arguably the best season ever.
Perhaps it’s time I came to recognize the true nature of my birth month: a whimsically drooping, silver-skied overture of London Fogs, slippered afternoons, cold yet lush marshlands, and kaleidoscope windows.
I can’t help feeling that more happens in the rain that no one notices than any other time of weather. Singular walks down city streets or country lanes. Fearlessly running down the street in a midnight downpour. Jumping full-force in every puddle and splashing dark water all over the pavement.
This is September. Soaked and soaking in return. Dripping denim raindrops. And still dreaming of sunlight.