This weekend had all of autumn in it. I can’t explain why exactly; it was just all there - the trees on fire, the brilliant blue sky, the downpours, the chilly breeze, the crispy leaves dancing on the wind. And what about the foggy mornings, the clouds of breath hanging in the air, the night-storm, the rolling clouds? it felt like the heart of the season.
Quite right too, given that it was remembrance weekend. There’s something poignant about the way that day falls in autumn - always makes me think about death, hopefulness, and gratitude, as I thrust chilly hands into warm pockets for that minute’s silence.
I noticed the birds this time. As the nation fell quiet, the birds kept singing. I watched them dart from tree to tree, calling each other. It was sweet and hopeful.
Today it’s sunny again. There’s a strong breeze out there, whistling and making the trees dance. Clouds barrel across the sky, ballooning up like textured wool, in that very paintable way that they do. Shadows are long. The world seems sort of golden, silver and orange. I like it.
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