dunno what it is but there is something about autumn that gets my romance all up and alert. i spend the time fantasizing about hayrides and cool nighttime hand in hand walks, and things that go bump in the night bumping me into the protective arms of my beloved.funny bit is that it wasn't until i was married that i had an actual grown-up like boyfriend during this time of year (no, i never went to a homecoming dance - or Sadie Hawkins either for that matter) - - which, truth be told, is probably why the whole thing seems/feels so romancey for me. because it's all that fairy-tale without any of the reality mixed in. i suspect when you add up fact that i first met my husband on a haunted house excursion (he was with another girl at the time) and the bonus that he goes out of his way to spoil me for Halloween it all makes sense that all my life Halloween (and autumn) have roused my romantic me. i was just waiting for the right time.
i'm not really a romantic person. i'm practical. i've an overdose of common sense. i'm pragmatic. romance doesn't really fit in with who i am. apart from the autumn there are only two really romantic (and probably these are more Romantic than romantic) moments i clearly recall - one was the day my husband proposed (and no, it wasn't some crazy grand gesture) and the other was the day (night) i first met my daughter. everything else hazes under those...
still - there's a little voice inside my head (or possibly my heart) telling me to grab up my man and steal him away to a corn(field) maze...
2 comments:
As practical as you are, you have always had a romantic heart. I think you SHOULD steal him away in the night...!!!
On your suggested reading, 'Lucy,' brings this poem to my mind:
Lucy by Wordsworth
SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
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