The foliage is already beginning to turn noticeably yellow, sinking to the ground like a rustling bright carpet, and the monotonous evening rains hit the windows more and more persistently.
The time for harvesting and harvesting begins, large bright pumpkins are already lying in the gardens, like symbols of the autumn sun, like lanterns among the green, slightly wilted tops, they attract eyes. Quiet mushroom hunting is flourishing in the forests again, and red carpets of cranberries are spreading in the swamps. In closets, basements and storerooms, shelves empty in summer begin to fill with blanks for the winter, and from the inhospitable gray-curly clouds one can hear the farewell cries of cranes every now and then.
Autumn leaves no one indifferent, someone does not like her, trying to hide under a warm woolen blanket and a mug of hot tea, someone, on the contrary, finds inspiration in it, walking through the yellow forest, and inhaling the moisture that literally stands in the air, filling lungs on a sigh. But no matter how you feel about autumn, you can argue about it endlessly, it is important how you feel about life, but life does not stop to wait for summer, birthday or Christmas. She walks, and the hours tirelessly measure the minutes that carry our present far back, turning it into lumps of the past. The sand of time flows through the hands of the clock, and with them our life. And is it worth putting it off until next summer, or maybe it is worth learning to live here and now, without waiting, without a calendar, just live, and let the annoying rain knock on the window, let it get dark earlier and earlier, let it be necessary to wear warm sweaters instead summer dress, let it all be under the heading, let ,,.
Let it be autumn, and we will be here and now, not tomorrow, not in the summer, not in the calendar, just here and now.