
I love autumn. It’s a major reason why I love autumn baking, because it really makes me feel the arrival of autumn down to my bones. The only problem is I live in the tropics, where autumn is virtually non-existent. Perhaps the closest thing we have to autumn here is the slightly chilly, windy December weather which I love so much. During this time, the trees change their leaves, and every so often one would find a clump of yellowed fallen leaves as one goes around the city. It just doesn’t crunch in the same way as the orange-brown leaves of fall do.
Despite living in a country with no autumn, I’ve been fortunate (unfortunate?) enough to experience autumn several times during my youth. My favourite is probably the autumn I spent in Australia. I even remember being overcome by an odd feeling of calm as I walked through Hyde Park in Sydney, making my way through rows and rows of trees with orange leaves swirling with the wind or hanging precariously on the branches. The melodious chirps of birds and the crunching of leaves beneath my shoes sang in chorus with the soft whispering winds of fall– the same wind that made my hair look a good kind of unkempt. In the distance, the statue of Captain Cook stood welcoming autumn with his outstretched hand…
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