Today marks the arrival of astronomical autumn here in the UK. The autumnal equinox occurred at 01.04 GMT. Autumn is my favourite season. I love watching the trees and their foliage change from a hue of greens to their golden autumnal colours.
Autumn is a time when I retire to my writing den and start a form of writer’s hibernation, spending longer hours in shorter days, writing in the comfort of lamplight. Our newly acquired tortoise, Myrtle, is leading the way. She’s stopped eating now and is sleeping for two days continuous, a sign that colder, darker, months are beckoning.
I’ve learned over the years that autumn and winter are my most productive as a writer. Spring starts a slow emergence from the writing den and summer is loaded with the distractions sunshine and the outdoors bring. This used to frustrate me. I spent many years beating myself up about my low writing productivity in the lighter, warmer, months.
I have come to accept that, like the seasons, I can’t fight the ebb and flow of nature’s change. Spring and summer are a time for living, gathering thoughts, words, and life experiences. Autumn and winter are for writing and recuperation.
Before I totally immerse myself in a blanket of books and journals, there is still outside work to be done. A garden that needs to be ‘put to bed.’ Outside furniture brought indoors. Flower beds to be prepared for spring. Making sure there is enough nourishment for wildlife to survive harsher days.
For a few weeks, I will still have a foot in both worlds. To celebrate, here is a prose poem dedicated to all writing gardeners.
I Wish I Never Watched Gardener's World A glimpse of truth, realising there are five wrong ways to plant a daffodil. Annoying, when you discover a glitch in the universe, especially when you were taught to act rashly where possible. The instructions stated, 'The blade should be thrust into the soil vertically, so the shaft tilts forward. Then, when poking stems into the globe, always look for a sphere.' Did I get those mixed up? A bit like creating a mishmash between Rossetti and Bukowski. Gardening, at times, can seem like a Monkey Puzzle. No one on the outside knows the extent of the crisis. All rather wild, but you can make things lovely.
Do you have a favourite time of the year for writing? I would like to hear how your writing adapts with the seasons. Have a great weekend.