and therefore my favorite.
Much as I love Christmas with an unholy zeal, December itself can be a real drag: everything is dead and gray and the light is gone. No wonder people hole up inside drinking eggnog and decorating with lights and brightly colored ornaments.
October is just glorious. The death-throes of summer are so violently lovely– the sky a blue so pure it almost hurts to look at, and all the leaves flaring up red and gold and orange as they burn out. It’s the perfect combination of heart-piercing natural beauty and the macabre. The fields are plowed over into dark stretches of black loam and all the produce that shows up at the markets glows white and orange. Everything seems to be on fire or smoldering down to black piles of ash.
There is a bit of a nip in the air on Saturday mornings now as I navigate the crazed spectacle of the Farmers’ Market, where I picked these up:
I love it when things aren’t the color you expect. Especially when the color they actually are leans toward the creeptastic, like these ghostly white pumpkins and black corn with crackling purple husks. The cognitive dissonance of looking at something a little…off…keeps things just surreal enough to be interesting. And by “interesting,” I mean “unnerving.”
You can see why I can’t wait for Halloween (and you are not going to believe my costume…). Happy October, everyone!