"Fall". What a cute name for a season. It's called "fall" because leaves fall from the trees and turn the floor into a cozy carpet of messy leaves. It's far less elegant sounding than "autumn", but there's also a more homely feeling to "fall".
Or at least that's what a little witch named Anna thought about when she was walking to the Hogwarts Grounds after finishing her homework and reviewing the subjects she had learnt that day. There wasn't too much, so it was all finished within the first hour of the free time, that two-hours period the little Blackberry always dedicated to her studies. Since she was done, she chose to spend the other hour of free time enjoying herself with something she liked: drawing. She enjoyed drawing the world around her, especially the nature. Because of this, she decided to sit near the Great Lake to sketch.
Some dry leaves on the ground broke under Anna's shoes when she walked by the grounds of Hogwarts, until she got to the tree she usually sitted under (she preferred to always sit on the same place, if possible), kicked away some leaves and made herself comfortable there, supporting her sketchbook on her legs. She opened it and flipped it through many pages covered in plant drawings, thoughtless doodles, failed attempts of drawing people, and self-taught practices of lighting, and then a blank page. She was almost at the end her sketchbook, she noticed; she'd likely have to ask for a new one once she went home for the holidays in December, she thought. Although in the first year Anna hadn't bothered drawing as much as she read, she eventually found out it was a nice hobby; she found it easier than writing, and when she desired a break from losing herself in the realm of fiction, drawing her surroundings was a great alternative. It allowed her to connect with the world she lived in and appreciate it, and improve her own abilities, too. Although she'd often get frustrated the result was never as perfect as it could be if she was a professional, and a perfectionist such as herself could not allow it, drawing always had room for improvement, and every time she covered a new page of her sketchbook with proof of her effort and joy, she would get a little bit better than she was before.
She took a breath and looked at the world surrounding her. Beautiful, like always. The day was not too sunny like summer, not too cold like winter; the temperature was cool, something Anna could appreciate well. Leaves all over the floor, though some would disappear soon, consumed by the fungus and small animals, and give room to the snow. But for as long as the snowflakes weren't there to cover the ground, she'd record what was here.
And so, Anna Blackberry picked up her resplendent quetzal feather and began drawing.
