Autumn mornings are for waking up but not getting up.
They’re for hot cups of tea and warm blankets. Getting dressed, doing your makeup, complete with an autumnal berry lipstick and tying your hair back.
Autumn afternoons are for walks outside. They’re for blackberries erupting from bramble bushes, signalling the beginning of the season. Leaves of every variety and colour, littering the ground, the trees, the air. Everywhere is a sea of brown, orange, red and purple. Taking pictures of things and finding the perfect angle for the picture. Finally being happy with the perfect shot. They’re for thousands of songs playing in your ears, for only you to hear. All your favourite songs that you don’t want anyone else to hear.
They’re for sipping pumpkin spice drinks, topped with whipped cream, as the cup warms your hands and the drink warms your insides. Window shopping for things you don’t need. Buying something you really don’t need but wanted anyway. Breathing in the bustle of the city, the people who are rushing and the people who are not. You are not.
Afternoons are for laughing wildly with your best friends about something mildly funny. Playing with your hair. Pulling your jacket just a little bit tighter around yourself.
Autumn evenings are for fireplaces. Steaming cups of tea and baked goods. Cookies and gingerbreads. They’re for baths with soft scented bath bombs, that smell like a dream while Lana del Rey plays in the background.
They’re for Harry Potter books and cosy pyjamas. They’re for fluffy socks and fairy lights.
Autumn nights are for rain. Lot’s of it, on the roof and the windows. They’re for that feeling of complete security and warmth, when you’re lying in your bed, wrapped up in covers, listening to the rain, violent and roaring outside while you curl up into a warm bundle of happiness. Knowing you’re safe. You’re warm and happy and safe.
(These are come pictures I took last year of the same tree outside my house, a few weeks apart. How beautiful is that?)