There is no sweeter melancholy than that of a warm autumn afternoon with sunlight worth a summer day without the blinding harshness, with the fragility and the imminent darkness making even the surrounding death gentle.
Whilst plants and trees give up their brief yet righteous summer existence, children run around, fresh from a new start, a new school year with new friends, new activities, new challenges. In their haste and youthful indifference they run past those bushes and trees, making them lose their leaves even faster. Yet the tender reds and glowing oranges of autumn leaves remain patient, like the elderly who seem to have unlocked a secret of time, right when time is up.
New and old, every little thing is slipping into the past. Some to become dear memories, some to build upon today to change fast for an unpredicable tomorrow. In this maelstorm of colours and flavours, I revel in a stolen instant of contemplation. I breathe in the last whiff of chopped hedges, I listen to the last desperate wasps beg the ivy for a little nectar and I prepare myself for winter.
Good bye summer and sunshine, bright daylight and endless dusk. I will close my eyes and live in a closed warm home, almost by a fire, and remember you like I do evey year, surprised at how distant you can feel, until the first hints of your return, some time in 6 months or so. I wonder what life will be like when you come back…
