I love autumn, it is my favorite time of year. That may be why I tend to set so many of my stories in that season, or have the really important events in the story take place at that time of year.
At my age in life now, the autumn of my life as they say, where every day goes by faster than the one before, I have mellowed. I think I have become winter’s pear.
That is the joy of it; I now know better than ever before what is important and what is not. Aware now of the swiftness of life, I realize how fleeting time is.
There are no more minutes to waste.
Excerpt from my book, The Velvet Bridge:
Texas in autumn, before Max, represented a paradox for Mattie, sad and exhilarating at once. Autumn’s the mellow time, the winter pear, she often said, borrowing the words from an English poet who so exactly described her own interpretation of the season. After Max, autumn had become a bridge, a transition between not only the two most contrasting seasons of the year but between the two divergent paths of her life.
It was a time for harvesting older memories, along with the more recent ones the last twelve months had offered. It was a time for thankfulness, for gathering loved ones, for preparation. It was a time for laying aside the past year, packing it away perhaps to be unfolded again for the relishing of touching moments and special events at a later time. For preserving that year’s life lessons so they could be called upon again when those ubiquitous moments of doubt or uncertainty require learned wisdom.