|My kingdom for a leaf.|
This week summer surrendered to autumn: handed over the keys, signed the paperwork, and washed its hands of climatic control for another year. Now the world is autumn's baby to corrupt.
Of course the process is transitional - a soft launch to underemphasize any major design hiccups.
Leaves turn yellow like hairs turn grey. Dust returns to dust. The eternal feeling of summer is an illusion.
But that's me: I'm over-caffeinated and suffer from a crippling case of sentimentality, for which the prognosis is poor. What does seasonal change mean to you?
Here follows a carnival of the season's best posts. You will notice that these writers exercise greater restraint with their sentimentality than I do.
Ella of Notes From Home warily observes five, er four boys marking that classic harvest right of passage: driving a massive combine.
Penny of the Alexander Residence fondly remembers the summer bilberry grounds of her childhood.
Truffle offers a durian toast to the harvest moon.
Christine, an Expat Mum in Portugal, talks about the promise of September for kids and mamas alike: school, new projects, the return of parental nap-time.
Maggie of Red Ted Art suggests that we gather the season's ephemera and construct a house for the woodland elves, so as they don't freeze their pointed little ears off this winter.
Ellen at In a Bun Dance acknowledges that summer is well and truly over, and bravely sends her oldest baby off to high school.
Kerry at Multiple Mummy focuses on the highlight of the warmer months: escape (with kids in tow).
Emma at Mummy...Mummy...Mum counts the passing time in a birthday wish and suggests a celebratory bottle rocket to mark the occasion with a bang.
Diane at Kids Party Heaven has some perennial ideas for how to avoid revenge party bag syndrome (almost as dangerous as inoperable sentimentality).
This autumn carnival was conceived by Brit Mums. Thank you to all contributors. Next week the carousel stops at Really Kid Friendly.
In the meantime, I'm off to kick yellow leaves, pull out grey hairs, and medicate my sentimentality with another truckload of coffee.