Not to mention they’re the two most nostalgic seasons, by a landslide. At least in regions that experience four seasons. There is nothing quite like the quiet promise of Spring after a long winter. One day you step out and warm sunshine is making your roof drip, and grass begins to show through the thinning snow. Familiar birds return and you spot the year’s first vegetation poking up through the soil. You can smell the Earth again. You’re flooded with memories of being a kid during the same months, lying out in the yard feeling that warm breeze blowing in.
Summer creeps up and slowly wears you the fuck out. Most of the flowers dry up and the grass gets scorched. Everything looks like shit, and right when you get tired of it all and want to throw yourself off a bridge, you notice the leaves turning yellow at an alarming rate. Nights grow cold, mushrooms pop up, and you remember how pleasant brittle leaves sound rattling along the street. Things get real damp and take on that nutty smell of decay. Some primal part of you gets real amped up for the harvest.
Halloween night brings with it the last echo of life, then the world grows quiet and dead. The frosts come and snow falls. Christmas is real cozy, and then a month later you’re eyeballing that bridge again. Doesn’t seem so high. Might be nice to throw yourself off it every now and again. Maybe this is will be the year…
Then one particularly warm afternoon you hear the trill of a robin.
Not to mention they’re the two most nostalgic seasons, by a landslide. At least in regions that experience four seasons. There is nothing quite like the quiet promise of Spring after a long winter. One day you step out and warm sunshine is making your roof drip, and grass begins to show through the thinning snow. Familiar birds return and you spot the year’s first vegetation poking up through the soil. You can smell the Earth again. You’re flooded with memories of being a kid during the same months, lying out in the yard feeling that warm breeze blowing in.
Summer creeps up and slowly wears you the fuck out. Most of the flowers dry up and the grass gets scorched. Everything looks like shit, and right when you get tired of it all and want to throw yourself off a bridge, you notice the leaves turning yellow at an alarming rate. Nights grow cold, mushrooms pop up, and you remember how pleasant brittle leaves sound rattling along the street. Things get real damp and take on that nutty smell of decay. Some primal part of you gets real amped up for the harvest.
Halloween night brings with it the last echo of life, then the world grows quiet and dead. The frosts come and snow falls. Christmas is real cozy, and then a month later you’re eyeballing that bridge again. Doesn’t seem so high. Might be nice to throw yourself off it every now and again. Maybe this is will be the year…
Then one particularly warm afternoon you hear the trill of a robin.
Very well said. I can already smell the autumn breeze <3