When I was younger, I would always say Autumn was my favourite season. The colours of the trees still excite the artist in me, as I suspect they do for anyone who loves nature or colour. Deep reds, bright, sun burnt oranges, yellows and bronzes. I don't see the impending death they foreshadow, only a last glorious attempt to reveal their true nature. Still, it's a shame they don't reveal these colours in the Spring, heralding in the warm heady days of Summer to come, like a prelude to all the fun. These days I would be more likely to say Summer was my favourite season, for obvious reasons, (I live next to a beach, for one), but I still love the trees, even though it's slightly diminished with a companion who sighs and says Winter is coming every time he sees a red leaf.
