Actually, Sweet Autumn is the name of this bodacious clematis growing up my friend's mailbox.
I find very little that is sweet about autumn. It's just a showy prelude to
death winter, which lasts anywhere from 5 to 6 months in Chicago. Which means it's time to get out the anti-depressants, lightboxes, and cases of wine, just a few of the components of this Chicagoan's winter survival kit.
I don't remember exactly when I became anti-autumn. Used to be, fall meant Mizzou football games, keggers and boys, crisp new clothes, Bic pens, and academic beginnings.
Now it's too much chocolate consumed in a fetal position while wearing a Snuggie. (Actually, this is a metaphorical Snuggie.)
Last year, I survived winter because I knew we were leaving for Savannah, GA, in February. It's what got me through January's hellacious snowstorms.
Dogs and children, know that your very lives were saved by this trip south to sunshine and water.
The very best part is, we may probably/pretty much/dear Lord let it be so get to do it again this February.
I can live with that, right?