I like October. There is something enchanting and secret about it.
The last of summer’s whispers are replaced by the crisp voice of autumn. Days grow shorter and nights draw in, bringing a soft, golden twilight that’s both comforting and nostalgic. It’s a little sad and more than a little beautiful.
The familiar is transformed into something gently extraordinary. The air smells musty with living things going to ground as the earth prepares for its winter sleep. The trees blaze with vibrant red, fiery orange and rich yellow. Then the colours drift down, only to be whipped into a dervish by the chilly wind.
It’s said to be a time when the veil between worlds becomes thin and the dead walk among us. We may remember the loss of loved ones and grieve for them as well as for the loss of summer’s bright sunshine and promise. So we comfort ourselves at Halloween with ghost stories and gentle ritual. Apple bobbing, Trick or treat and bonfires.
It’s also a time of preparation. We might make jam and pickles. We may stock the larder with our favourite things, just in case. Or clean our homes to embrace a season when we spend more time indoors, wrapped up in the telly or a good book.
For many, it can be a time to pick up forgotten hobbies or simply savour a slower pace before the festive madness of December.
For me, however, October can be a month of contemplation. Falling leaves remind me to let go of what is no longer needed, and soft rain taps on the window with an invitation to pause and look inward. It’s a subtle form of magic, and that’s what makes October special for me…