The view to the school's garden through a hole in our fence
The sun shone, the sky azure blue. If it was July it would have been one of those hot, still perfect summer's days. It's halfway through October though and the wilted flowers and chill air were a reminder of how late in the year it now is.
Regardless I decided to spend the afternoon in the garden and was perfectly comfortable with a jumper, although I did half wish for my mittens when the sun left the valley.
The hydrangea has lost its colour and the fuschia looks tired and ready to give up. It's all rather sad. Every year I try to like autumn more. I find the shedding of the leaves and all the colours beautiful. I enjoy a cold, bright autumn morning as much as anybody, and the smell of smoke hinting at Guy Fawkes' festivities to come. Yet, no matter how hard I try, autumn always seems a little tinged with melancholy for me. I dislike seeing all the flowers dying and the trees turning skeletal.
I've planned to bake autumnal cupcakes, bought ground ginger, noted the pumpkins to be bought in the shops come payday. I've lingered at the Hallowe'en display and contemplated dressing as a witch or cat. I've picked a conker, shuffled through some leaves and worn mittens. I've surveyed my collection of cosy lights and candles to help assuage the loss of daylight and planned film evenings. I've dug out two sachets of luxurious Italian hot chocolate hiding under my bed and started burning my oil burner. Yet, I still long for spring. There is nothing equal to the joy of seeing the crocus arrive and feel the air turning warm for me. I think spring and summer will always be my seasons and that is that.
So I took my camera and lunch into the garden and tried to pretend spring isn't five long months away, even if the wait is bisected by Christmas.
Still working on that spider photo
A fuschia flower hanging on
Another spider web photo. Not sure how good the quality is on here
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