The kind that comes complete with grey skies, chilly winds, and fiery orange leaves skimming across your shoes.
Sweaters are your best friend today. Fingers are warmed around steaming cups of milky tea. Slipper clad toes burrow deeper into soft fleece and hair winds itself into braids and ponytails of its own volition.
Umbrellas dangle from sleeve-covered wrists and faces burrow into scarves and under lifted collars. A few people dig out soft knitted gloves to pull over chilly palms.
In a glass castle I can see heavy clouds skimming across the sky at a pace seemingly too quick for such burly figures. Crisp winds carry the rustlings of farewells, goodbyes to each other, to summer, to freedom and carelessness and light. The whisper of sadness and warmth and isolation. Of the season to come and the season to pass.
Opinions welcome below!