I love autumn. Absolutely love it. The colours, the crisp mornings that make you feel alive, the particular blue of the sky that only comes when the air has a bite to it. The smell of woodsmoke, the excuse to dig out big scarves, the promise of hotpots and soups that simmer all afternoon. This is my season.
But Halloween? Not so much…
I get that it’s really for the children and I love that they love it. I’ll happily help Callan plan his barn party, carve pumpkins until my fingers ache, and admire the creativity of costumes … that part is joyful.
It’s the rest I can’t get behind.
The plastic cobwebs strung across perfectly nice houses. The “scary” decorations that all look suspiciously like they were bulk-ordered from the same discount website. The endless supply of sweets that mysteriously never last until the 31st. (Someone’s eating them. I’m not pointing fingers. But someone.)
And then there’s the dressing up. Children in costumes? Adorable. Adults in costumes? I’m baffled. Have you had some kind of childhood trauma that left you desperate to revisit trick-or-treating? Or are you just very, very committed to polyester capes and fake blood? Either way … good for you, but I’ll pass.
Because here’s the thing … autumn doesn’t need bats and ghosts and flashing pumpkins. It’s already magic. It’s the season of coorie … of drawing in, making things warm and comforting, and noticing how nature is showing off one last time before winter.
So yes, I’ll help with the costumes and the barn party, because childhood deserves that kind of fun. But you’ll find me happiest in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something slow-cooked, looking out at the trees turning gold, and thinking … autumn itself is enough.
What about you? Are you Team Autumn Glory or Team Halloween Madness? I’d love to know.
Karen xx