the air on my lips

Last winter, I couldn't smell the winter. It bothered me. Maybe it's because I live in the city now, that I've dulled my senses a wee bit. But I used to be able to taste the Autumn coming. Either you get it or you don't. How am I supposed to explain to someone who just doesn't get it?

You sense the cold first. On your nose and on your lips. Your breath rolls around your tongue and out to mist in the air. Cordite from the guns and the fireworks. Woodsmoke. Hog-roast on a spit in the square down in England. Leaves found their way into the fire again. Check for hedgehogs! The cold keeps you awake - alert. Alive. Sharp. Pints are colder.

Back in Aber, your breath misting in the pub or classroom when the heating isn't up and running that early. The door to the Machar opening, a gust of wind and a car wooshes past. People turning to see who's come in and brought the cold with them. Damn, I love the campus in Autumn. Seaton Park gets golden. St.Machar's towers about the trees. Write a fantasy story about it.

Even the cemetery is beautiful. Blankets on the ground. Like I said, you get it or you don't. Don't stand there, saying it's cold. Of course it is. Listen. Taste. Smell it. That's nature, my friend. That's being alive. Lap it up.

The sooner you understand this, the sooner we can get a cup of tea indoors, ha ha. You were right, it is getting cold.

Hurry up, Autumn. I missed you.