~ Henry David Thoreau
It has been raining since Friday. Some days, a torrential downpour, its intensity scrubbing everything and everyone clean. Others, a playful light rain that places random, baby kisses on your face and then dances away. I like both kinds ~ the kettle drum and the violin. The sound of it as it pounds at the roof is thrilling. The peaceful tap-tap as it caresses the windows is soothing.
I was sitting at my desk, with the window open, the rain playing a sweet melody on the leaves of the oaks and maples, when I became aware of it. A light breeze that smelled like a memory: wet leaves, corn husks and hay. And pumpkins. The sensation was gone in an instant, but my senses were piqued. I had smelled autumn.
Each of the four seasons has a special place in my heart and my senses. Spring is hopeful, bringing color and new life to the spirit and to the ground; Summer is open, her laid back weather perfect for sweet tea and evenings on the porch with family and friends; but Autumn and Winter. Ah ~ they are extra special. Autumn is magical and full of promise and Winter is intimate and giving and mysterious.
I tucked my feet up under me and wrapped a light shawl around my shoulders as a delightful shiver ran through me. Definitely autumn in the air. It being Virginia, the weather is a bit of a tease and I am sure we will see an Indian Summer into October. For now, I would enjoy the moment, this first breath of fall. I took a sip of my tea, its warm, milky sweetness a foretaste of my favorite season.
In the past I have said that anywhere is a good place to write or compose or dream. But I think I said that when I was under the influence of a city summer. Oh no, my dears. Anywhere is a good place to write or dream, but autumn in the rain is the best place.
Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela
It has been raining since Friday. Some days, a torrential downpour, its intensity scrubbing everything and everyone clean. Others, a playful light rain that places random, baby kisses on your face and then dances away. I like both kinds ~ the kettle drum and the violin. The sound of it as it pounds at the roof is thrilling. The peaceful tap-tap as it caresses the windows is soothing.
I was sitting at my desk, with the window open, the rain playing a sweet melody on the leaves of the oaks and maples, when I became aware of it. A light breeze that smelled like a memory: wet leaves, corn husks and hay. And pumpkins. The sensation was gone in an instant, but my senses were piqued. I had smelled autumn.
Each of the four seasons has a special place in my heart and my senses. Spring is hopeful, bringing color and new life to the spirit and to the ground; Summer is open, her laid back weather perfect for sweet tea and evenings on the porch with family and friends; but Autumn and Winter. Ah ~ they are extra special. Autumn is magical and full of promise and Winter is intimate and giving and mysterious.
I tucked my feet up under me and wrapped a light shawl around my shoulders as a delightful shiver ran through me. Definitely autumn in the air. It being Virginia, the weather is a bit of a tease and I am sure we will see an Indian Summer into October. For now, I would enjoy the moment, this first breath of fall. I took a sip of my tea, its warm, milky sweetness a foretaste of my favorite season.
In the past I have said that anywhere is a good place to write or compose or dream. But I think I said that when I was under the influence of a city summer. Oh no, my dears. Anywhere is a good place to write or dream, but autumn in the rain is the best place.
Oremus pro invicem,
Mikaela
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