Autumn

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.  Probably because I was a nerd and loved starting new topics at the beginning of the school year.

Although September was the coldest one Denmark has had in the last 12 or so years, the temps are not falling too dramatically yet.  With averages in the 50s (that's 10˚-15˚C) and not too much rain or overcast skies, this month has been brilliant so far.

The waning sun casts a golden glow at this time of year.  The leaves on the trees are dying a long, graceful death.  Those that have fallen make a crunch underfoot.

Halloween decorations, more than last year, are on store shelves.   I have intense cravings for hot chocolate or warm apple cider (spiked with some spiced rum, of course!).  I kick myself for not having brought back some mini marshmallows from the States.

I also miss tailgating at the Ohio University football games.  Cold light beers washing down the warm brats.  Delicious.  But football (American style) does not exist here, nor does proper sauerkraut for the brats. Same goes for a good light beer.

Sure, the length of daylight hours is quickly slipping away.  Already the sunrise is at 7:34 and sunset at 6:18 p.m.  I have made a 3-month calendar with the sunrise and sunset times.  Forewarned is forearmed, so I hope to not suddenly be surprised by the time of the Winter Solstice, which has a sunrise at 8:38 and sunset at 3:39 p.m. And sunrise should be put into quotes, because at that time of year, the gray skies are typically overcast with thick clouds, impenetrable to the sun's rays of light.

Knowing what lies ahead makes me appreciate this golden sun now even more.  Last year, for three weeks beginning at the end of October, the skies were overcast and rainy every single day.  I shudder in the fear something like that would happen again.

Having spent my entire life in southeastern Ohio, at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, hills were everywhere.  On a return drive from North Carolina, we were stuck in traffic in the mountains of West Virginia.  I felt suffocated.  Everywhere I looked, there were towering hills, extending as far up as one could see.  But we inched forward, and were soon enjoying a new, more open, landscape.

Denmark, on the other hand, is quite flat. The highest point of elevation is 560 feet high.  As a cyclist, this is great.  But on the days of overcast skies, I feel the same suffocating feeling.  At least in Ohio, one can drive further up the hill to not feel so surrounded.  Here, one can feel doomed to suffer the domed sky's mood.

Is it really any wonder our ancestors worshiped the sun?