‘October Country’ is the name of a collection of short horror stories by Ray Bradbury. It is also what the same author described as:
“that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and mid-nights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain…”
This is the day today. It has been damp and misty turning to rain all day. The clocks have just turned around to winter time, and it is dark far too early. The daylight that there is can’t quite make up its mind about what to do, whether to come out and play or go to bed early. Sounds are muffled as pavements are carpeted by leaves sticking to each other, starting to decay and dampness cushions rooftops, smudging all the lines. There is a sense of things closing in, partly it is suffocating and partly there is a sense of wanting to give in to it. It is not yet time for hibernation but it feels as if it’s not too far away. Soft rich colours call - the soft yellow of the lamp has been on to ward off the darkness and I am drawn to anything copper coloured - amber, scarves, dark orange and ochre fallen leaves, images of copper velvet. Having had one of the nasty colds going around at the moment, I am still wrapping myself up, perhaps even unnecessarily against this mild and wet weather but my mind is saying it wants the comfort. Comfort from what - the coming winter, or the fogginess that comes over the brain in the sub-daylight? Maybe these and more.
It is All Hollows Eve soon, the time - they say - of the veil thinning between worlds and mystery and occult meet. Ghost stories are read and enjoyed. There is little Halloween decoration thus far in the village which is unusual, except for one particular garden where there’s so much decoration that surely if you are a child in that house it must be mortifying by now because this has been going on for several years and any child living there must be approaching the age where everything is embarrassing. Next, the halloween decorations will come down to be replaced by blow up santas and snowmen and signs asking santa to ‘stop here’. It is a break in the grey dullness but also jarring, there is no smudging of lines here. October is soft, everything about it is falling, collapsing blurring, inviting us perhaps to find softness inside ourselves for the coming winter.