The Cure for Autumn Envy
What this means is that the food bloggers are always writing about the finding delicious new season apples in their farmers’ markets just when the mangoes are starting to appear here, and posting enticing recipes using asparagus and cherries (not together, ew) when I’m dragging the heater out of the shed. The design bloggers are showing me open fires and quilts when I am studiously sweeping sand brought home from the beach down into the cracks between the floorboards instead of vacuuming it up like a proper mother would. The fashion bloggers make me want to order winter coats from Anthropologie and jumpers from Emersonmade when I should be unpacking the summer clothes from before I was pregnant, which, although I now fit into again, I seem to hate.
The only way to fight this anti-seasonality is with an evening fish and chips picnic on the front lawn. That’s the way to properly appreciate my home, my city, my husband, my baby and the glorious late spring weather. May Blossom, who is a stickler for manners, ate only tartare sauce with a fork, because she was feeling delicate. H and I ate our own weight in fried fishy and potatoey goodness.
May Blossom eats tartare sauce with a fork.
You can keep your autumnal colours and cosy homes, northern hemisphere. Right now I’m happy sleeping under just a sheet, eating nicoise salad and trying to enforce the No Hat, No Play rule.