I'm going to go ahead and admit that summer is not my favourite season. I don't despise it, but I do have preferences, and in this case those preferences would be spring, autumn, and winter (specifically the latter two). I get overheated easily, so it's always a relief when the air cools off after the summer.
It is nice to have the windows open all day and listen to all the birds (some of which do not even reside here during other times of the year). And I love summer thunderstorms. But when the long, hot months finally draw to a close and the cooling breezes begin to whisper teasing hints of Something New - that's when I get excited. Because I believe that, all things considered, autumn is my favourite season ever.
I love when the first leaves begin to change colour and then the radiant fire spreads through once-green boughs. I love the mystical suggestions of the wind as it converses with anything and anyone willing to listen. And, of course, I love when Starbucks re-introduce their Pumpkin Spice Latte. Less than three*.
I love autumn so much, in fact, that I feel rather compelled to write possibly-flowery poetry about it now. Perhaps I shall do that. But first, I suppose, I should finish the poems I mean to send in to a magazine.
It's not procrastination if you're doing other things.