tapaa minut aamulla

This might be my absolute favourite time of the year. Really the Americans are delusional (with all due respect) in calling this "fall" when it's so clearly an ascension. A climb into one's own skin, into layers of clothing, into routine and those sparkling mornings.

Finally it's cold enough to sink into jumpers and scarves and fingerless gloves. There's a quiet glory to these high winds and sharp sunrises and cold damp noses that can be pressed against pale pink cheeks.

I knit and brew endless cups of tea and consume volumes of poetry, because how else should one while away the cooling days of late September?