Monday, October 11, 2010

On this, the day of your turkey's consumption


As the leaves on my neighbourhood trees turn from green to vibrant red and warm amber, I begin to get consumed by an almost manic excitement for autumn. My scarves get thicker, my sweaters woolier, and my brain has difficulty focusing on anything beyond searching for recipes that involve pumpkin, turnips, cream, and a casserole dish. I become obsessed with insipid masses that taste like nothing but cinnamon and comfort, and pending deadlines seem unbearable without sickeningly sweet seasonal beverages from coffee places that shall remain unnamed. Autumn is a wonderful time for rain boots and falling in love, and drinking hot toddies and listening to alternative country songs about being crazy about you.

Another season passes, as does another year that I have been in this rainy city. Movements become a bit more ritualistic, and structures continue to collapse and are rebuilt. Every year the city changes, and every fall I forget what it used to look like. Few things remain the same, and, like the buildings in this city, the seasons collapse into the next. But each year I anticipate the moment in which the remnants of summer disappear, and we are left with autumn, rebuilt on a stretch of trees on Ontario and Alberta.

Happy Turkey Day everyone.