Marigold thought the world a charming place at all times but especially in September, when the hills were blue and the great wheat-fields along the harbor-shore warm gold and the glens of autumn full of shimmering leaves. Marigold always felt that there was something in the fall that belonged to her and her alone if she could only find it, and this secret quest made of September and October months of magic.
--L. M. Montgomery, Magic for Marigold
Fall feels like my reward for enduring the bugs and stickiness of summer. When other people claim to "love" it, I think that they could not possibly feel the same towards it as I do. Every cool breeze feels like a kiss, and every flash of glorious color gives me a thrill as if it were placed there solely for me.
As a shy, not-overly-talkative, NOT huggy person, I feel like meeting, greeting, talking AND hugging. I do random, sloppy pirouettes and tap-dancy jigs.
Also....completely enjoying the above book. It gives me the warm fuzzies, makes me cackle out loud, and remember some of the joys and pangs of my own childhood. I am nearing the end, so slowing down, so as to put off having to part with the characters.
When you finish a good book, you sometimes feel bruised and weary. Not yet willing/able to put forth the effort to get to know the characters in another book. You need time to bask. Ponder. Recover.
