She looked out over the land. The sunlight glistened on the reds and oranges of the leaves. The trees appeared to go on forever like a calm, but fiery ocean. They moved slightly when wind passed over the bows, creating bursts of ripples in the stillness.
The Queen hated the fall season. In all of its beauty and color, it represented to approaching winter – the approaching death. The plants died and they put on such a pretty show while doing it. The death of people is never so beautiful.
She would watch every morning, noting the progression of the changing colors. Soon, the leaves would fall off, and leave a barren wasteland of branches. Then winter would come. The cold and the snow would blanket her land.
Her people harvested their pumpkins and prepared their fall feasts. The season prior had been bountiful. The royal feast would feature a cornucopia of vegetables and fowl. The baker in the kitchen spent hours on pies and pastries filled with berries and fruits. The servants worked to store that which wouldn’t be used, so there would be food for winter. The brandy and mead were fermented, and there was pumpkin ale to be made.
There was so much fun to be had, to celebrate, but the bitter Queen could only think of the oncoming winter, of the death. She could never appreciate that it would be spring again, so she hated autumn.