I was not familiar with this Andrew Bird song, until I saw the BBC’s production of Little Women at Christmas last year.
I like it, there is something so sing-song about it. When I hear it, I can see leaves changing colour, hayrides, pumpkins piled high, fresh apple cider, hot donuts and crispy skinned sausages. Barn dances under the full harvest moon and twinkle lights glowing. I can see Indian corn almost completely shucked and gathered by their dried husks, tied up with a ribbon and hanging on doors. I can smell the aroma of spice in the air, mingled with the scent of wood logs burning in open fires. When I hear this song, I can see autumn.