She arrives quietly, too shy to make much impression. Her soft rain replenishes the parched summer soil and her gentle breezes cool the same burnt ground. Beneath our feet the colour changes from brown dryness to verdant green as she breathes new life into the earth. She treads gently in summer's wake leaving, at first, just a hint of her arrival; mist hanging silently in the valley, dew drenching silken cobwebs, a hint of something in the air that all disappear as the dawn rises with summer's still strong sun.
As time passes, she grows in confidence. Soft rain builds to heavy downpours, gentle breezes strengthen to strong gusts and summer is sent scurrying away. Fruits not picked tumble to the ground to be gathered by animals, frantic to build their stores. They know only too well that summer is fading and autumn's early benevolence will not last long.
As if my magic, mushrooms spring from the damp soil overnight to stay but a day or two before melting back from whence they came. Green leaves turn a million shades of yellow, red and brown, crowning the trees in triumphant glory. But, like the mushrooms, autumn will send them earthbound and their time left with with us is short, leaving bare branches to welcome winter.
As autumn finds her confidence the first frost chills to the bone, violent storms bring down branches as well as leaves and darkness wins over light. She has much to offer and much to take. A time of plenty turns to a time of little. A time of death for some. For others, sleep and escape is their only way.
Autumn stole summer from us so in time winter will chase autumn away. For those who stay there will be hard times ahead. Some will survive to welcome another spring. Others will perish.
This is how it is. This is autumn.