After high school, I got a job at an artificial flower warehouse by the airport. It was my first real job. I took two buses that always smelled of coffee, and squeezed in amongst people trying to navigate a newspaper within their own sliver of personal space. I loved it.
I was a cashier, but sometimes I would have to go down our long aisles to retrieve a certain colour of hydrangea or check the price on a topiary. Sometimes, in the aisles, I would see a coworker stocking shelves. One of them was a middle-aged man who once asked me if I was named after the witch in “Bewitched” – Samantha. I laughed and told him no, amazed that he didn’t do the usual thing of assuming I knew nothing of the world before 1980.
Despite this knowledge, he continued to assume that Bewitched Samantha was my namesake, and in mid-September he began to tease me, “Oh, your time is coming!” The closer we got to Halloween, the more frequent the witch jokes became.
I don’t remember anything else about this man, not even his name. And I know he was referring to Halloween, not autumn in general. But ever since then, around this time of year, I hear his voice in my head. “Oh, your time is coming!” And, really, it’s true. This summer I discovered that absolutely none of my friends in town despise that sweaty season as much as I do, and weren’t looking forward to autumn as much as I was. So I do feel it really is my time. In summer I am cranky, useless, torpid. I like taking long walks, drinking hot coffee and tea, wearing scarves and cardigans. Preferably all at the same time. None of these things are possible or practical in a Southern Ontario summer.
However, I think the most important reason for my love affair with autumn is that it’s when my brain wakes up. If not for the Humber mentorship I’m doing, I honestly don’t think I would’ve written much all summer. I usually don’t. My submission log historically has huge gaps between May and October. But I can feel it now. That little rustling in my brain that leads directly to hours-long writing binges in coffeeshops. And it’s only going to get worse and worse until it culminates in total madness mid-winter, when I throw the windows open in the freezing cold, writing my little heart out quite happily.
You know, like witches do.
Aw, we did gang up on you on the SUMMER RUUUUULEESSSSS talk, didn’t we? Either way, I’m glad you’re excited about fall, and save me a nice, autumnal walk, okay?
Haha, it’s okay! It was a good lesson in not assuming that my friends are exactly like me all the time! Also, Carly loves summer too, so it wasn’t just you guys.
Yes, we will definitely have some good autumn times.
This is lovely. There must be something of the witch in me, too, because I MUCH prefer the fall to the summer. Here in Georgia we’re finally getting to a point when I can wear a cardigan and jeans and not die. Can’t wait till scarves and boots are fully viable too! Then winter in all its clean-edged coolness. Can’t wait!!!
“Clean-edged coolness” is a great way to put it. I’m happy you’re a cool weather lover too! (And I don’t envy you what must be very sweaty Georgia summers!)
Oh yes. Very sweaty :)
I’ve been feeling something tingly in the air, too, even though usually I get most of my writing done in the summer. I think it’s something about the change of seasons. (What DO people do for inspiration in California? Maybe when avocados grow in your yard you don’t need any.)
Wishing you lots of long, lovely cafe writing sprees!
You know, I think your avocado theory also helps me to understand how Californians bear a snowless Christmas!
Thank you for your kind wishes!
Well, summer in Toronto is ok, but I’m with you: fall is the best time to live here. It’s the best time to live anywhere, really. Bring on sweater weather and falling leaves!
I agree, it really is the best here.
Fall is the best season no matter where you are. I have loved being able to come home from work and put on my comfy long sleeve shirts. The only reason I survived summer without too much whining this year is because we now have a basement! lol.
I hope the beginning of your fall is wonderful, colourful and cool!
Thanks, Carla – same to you!