October is one of the loveliest months. Autumn is always putting on a show in these parts of the world in October and one can only marvel at the colorful sight offered by nature. It’s gorgeous but never lasts long enough.

The colors are turning, and in a matter of days, they are in their full splendor. It’s a pull you can’t resist. I know I can’t. I have to be outside and walk along the paths covered in leaves. Sometimes crisp and crunching under your feet, sometimes damp and releasing that unmistakable autumn scent (not the pumpkin spice type!). The earthy, woody pine, bitter and sweet, fruity and ripe one. You know the one, I’m sure.

Here we are, at the end of October.  That means autumn is well on it’s way out already, at least the glorious part of it.  Trees are almost bare now, and can you believe that (no, I’m not going to say the S word!) fluffy white stuff is expected this weekend?  I still enjoy walking in the woods, now that leaves cover the ground, but they’ll soon turn to a greyish-brown matter and, as nature rules it, they’ll become part of the whole renewing circle again.  November is by far my least favorite month of the year, though I absolutely love the color grey, when all my environment turns to that particular shade of dull, sleepy and cold grey, I can’t wait for it to be covered in white.  I could just skip right to December!

I love this poem from Paul Verlaine, Chanson d’automne, in it’s original French version of course.  It goes like this:

Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon coeur
D’une langueur
Monotone.