I'm an oddity, probably, for loving autumn.
Autumn is an irrepressibly romantic season of contrasts: the ever so clear and blue skies after days of diaphanous grey, misty rain; the plump, lingering berries on ash-dry trees; the almost violent red surging in a burst of colour between the rain-slick brown leaves, dark tarmac and evergreen bushes.
In the wake of 10 p.m. sunsets in those frenetic days of summer, autumn seems like a slumber-warm dream: cinnamon-scented and interspersed with the nostalgia of just-yesterday, summer was here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment