A Seasonal Perspective

Fall…is there anything more enchanting? The colors and scents are a charismatic feast for the senses, captivating every age with equal magnitude.

I never had seasons growing up, I had perfect Southern California weather. I know what you’re thinking. Oh, poor Britt! That must have been unbearable.

Honestly, in many ways…without seasons I missed out.

I didn’t get to crash into a pile of leaves, fashion snow angels, or smell flowers come back to life. My wardrobe was the same year-round–no fun boots, coats, or other toasty accessories.

Profoundly in tune with the seasons, our bodies are cyclical. Even if the climate reflects idyllic conditions in the form of sunshine and clear skies, the absence of seasons can be strangely unsettling. Year after year, the comfort of the holidays is muted and the excitement for summer is ho-hum.

Post-Cali I spent seven cranky years in the sweltering heat of Texas. I’m a hot-natured person—big surprise—so boiling temps are definitely not my bag, baby.

Since moving to Wisconsin a few years ago, I have participated in all of the previously mentioned seasonal activities, fulfilling my childish wishes at long last.

Now that the seasons are mine to cherish, I could never live without them. By and large, fall is my favorite and I used my newly discovered infatuation to enhance the setting in Everything’s Not Bigger.

The main character, Jaye Davis, spends her childhood in Arizona and early adulthood in Texas, making her the catalyst for unearthing this overlooked notion, a missing link in her life. Upon traveling to Prague in October, she marvels at the basic nature she has always been denied.

An excerpt from Everything’s Not Bigger…

She halted on the sidewalk to soak in the beautiful tree-lined street. Prague in autumn was a breathtaking sight: striking mothers pushed strollers across gold, leaf-littered sidewalks; fat, daredevil squirrels darted between cars stockpiling nuts for winter; picturesque schoolchildren in plaid uniforms played hopscotch after school.

Every crunchy step she took over the brilliant leaves was a relishing moment. A stealthy breeze lifted the bottom of her coat, sending a tiny chill up her body. Everywhere it smelled like crisp foliage with the slightest hint of cinnamon.

Disrupting the magic, her stomach rudely reminded her of its incessant need for nourishment. Jaye opted to grab a bite at a street vendor, so she could spend the remaining daylight wisely, taking in the magical city at a snail’s pace.

And there at the street vendor, her exquisite autumn fantasy came to a bitter end. The mobile shed housed an impatient college kid, decorated with multiple facial piercings. Jaye investigated the menu bordering the top of the little window, and fidgeted with the strap of her handbag.

Jaye regarded the numbered images skeptically, head moving left to right, then right to left. Each bowl of goulash looked the same as its neighbor, and there were five choices. None looked edible.

After only one day, she felt homesick. Food had been the trigger.

Just as her grandmother and aunt had in their kitchen, Texas had one redeeming quality—the food was to die for. Tex-Mex, barbeque, and spicy brunches were available on every corner of Dallas. Due to deliciously fond memories of her grandmother’s cooking, she hadn’t thought much about Czech cuisine. Now that she discovered this goulash street buffet, Jaye realized her childhood menu was a Tex-Czech fusion—unfairly savory, and unavailable elsewhere.

Customers ignored her as she stood dumbly on the sidewalk. She crept away.

Out of nowhere she saw a godsend—Weasel Wich, a familiar American sandwich chain, its boring facade standing out like a hooker in a fancy museum. Surrounded on all sides by historic architectural gems, the cheesy signage was a little piece of home. She made a beeline for the doors, licking her lips at the thought of mediocre sandwich fare.

I promise this is the last book snippet I will bombard you all with. Thank you for obliging me and sharing your comments and feedback.

Everything’s Not Bigger releases this Saturday the 10th!


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18 thoughts on “A Seasonal Perspective

    1. Yay! I love this photo as well…it’s so peaceful and even though she’s just my furry cat, she seems like she’s taking in the outside and daydreaming about something awesome.

          1. A co-worker of mine used to have this really old cat. Her boyfriend was convinced that this cat hated him. One day he left a pair of leather pants on the bedroom floor. This cat managed to squeeze it’s bum into one of the legs and took a dump…which the guy didn’t realize until he went to put them on.

            Well played, Cat. Well played.

  1. Love how you used your personal experience to create real emotion for your character. Her craving for food is a craving for home. Beautiful. And I like “hooker in a fancy museum”. Wonderful way with words.

    1. Thanks so much, Gail! I appreciate your compliments. I used many, many personal experiences in this book, so it is very dear to me. I’m glad you liked “hooker in a fancy museum”. : )

  2. This is wonderful, Britt. I like how you start this post with your own experience and then move it onto your character. I actually felt hungry after reading your excerpt! 😀

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