Discontented Autumn

This is the Autumn of my discontent when I’m feeling out of sorts. The-bumping-into-things, forgot-where-I-left-my-glasses-again-and-getting-really-annoyed-about-it, wanting-to-jump-out-of-my-skin twitchiness that is draining, depressing, and downright dangerous, kind of out of sorts.

This usually happens twice a year at the changeover of the seasons. When there’s not a chance of Spring returning and when Autumn is but a fond memory of warm days and crisp nights. I’m not at my best during these transition times. Partly because my knee stiffens up at the slightest provocation and refuses to work as both it, and I, know it can. Partly because I feel as though I’ve run out of time to finish the things that I wanted to get done before the season ended. And partly because it’s not time to begin the things that need to be accomplished during the coming season.

First I rant, and Mrs Widdershins listens and says all the right things in the right places. Then I have a good cry, while Mrs Widdershins says all the right things in all the right places, as well as offering hugs and hankies. Then I’m exhausted and have a headache. I don’t understand how some people can have the kind of cry that almost wrenches your bones out of their sockets, and then spring up all full of vim and vigour!

At last, I wander around in a post-emotional-release daze, not unlike an orgasmic afterglow, but without the huge cheesy grin, or the feeling of well-being, or that you don’t have any bones. Actually it’s nothing like a post-orgasmic afterglow 😦

Now, I’m ready to decide what I’m going to do to celebrate this shift of seasons.

The weather forecast for tomorrow is for wind and rain.


I have a few errands to run and then I’m going to jump on a bus down to Kitsilano Beach, buy myself a very large chai latte and just sit there (out of the rain) and watch the sea as its whipped up by the winds coming in across Georgia Strait. 

Then I’ll come home and write.


“Winter is an etching, spring a watercolour, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all” – Stanley Horowitz

6 comments on “Discontented Autumn

  1. Now that I think of it, I used to hack off my hair around the equinoxes, usually without benefit of a mirror. But that was younger. Now, I ask the husband to do it. Thank goodness we have mates who know to say and do the right thing when these moods take over. Nothing like looking out over churning waves to find perspective. Thanks giving to thee. 🙂


  2. s.p.bowers says:

    Ouch, I hear you on the knees. The change of the seasons are always so painful. I’m glad you have someone who listens and says all the right things.

    Hope you have a marvelous day watching the ocean.


  3. Changes in atmospheric pressure lead to all sorts of weather. When I lived in Wellington, the spring equinox and the months between September and December (the Kiwi spring) were the windy season. There is always a wind in Wellington, but in those months it would be stormy and strong. It would rattle our windows and throw chairs around on the deck.

    Last weekend was our first wake-up call to the impending arrival of winter. I know in a few months that -20C will feel like a balmy day, because its contrast is much, much colder. I don’t know if my bad attitude is due to the weather or the general disgruntlement I feel that the nice weather is about to end and the crappy cold stuff is upon us.

    The change in seasons and arrival of the rains is better with wellies, a good umbrella and a solid Gore-tex jacket.


Leave a Reply to Widdershins Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.