Our profound look this week will indeed be a literal look. At photos. Because autumn.
I have always have a particularly soft spot for the fogs of autumn and early winter. Fog makes everything not just pleasantly eerie but also quiet. Just a very light one here, but fog is fog. The one at the top of this post — now that’s some decent fog that makes you look for a dead body somewhere around that intersection. There’s a very convenient park to the left, perfect for hiding bodies in the dead of night, for some early dog walker or schoolchild to find. I should stop writing now.
I know there’s a special kind of tourism in some parts of the U.S. where people go to watch how the leaves of the trees turn during autumn. This sounds like my kind of tourism. Except I’d want to stay on to see winter et al. Not much of a tourist, me. But very much a fan of all warm nuances of leave colour.
It wouldn’t be autumn if there are no conkers. They are the absolute proof it is this season and none other. If you’re kicking conkers on the way to work or you’re stuffing them in every free space on your way to school if you’re nine, it’s definitely autumn. And Halloween is around the corner. (This photo is a rare one already. Most of the conkers have been shed. And collected by Little C.)
One of the great charms of autumn is that the change is gradual. Winter is not so subtle. It gets cold, it gets snowy, the end. Not so with autumn. While some trees hesitantly start turning yellow, others go red overnight and still a lot of green hangs on for the lower temperatures to make it beautiful. Also, this is one of the most picturesque streets in town and I have the pleasure to walk it every day. The green is from a closed park, property of the Ministry of Defence for some reason, which also contains a former royal residence. There was some rumour the government was going to sell the plot for more residential buildings because we won’t have enough until we build up every single inch. I hope it remains a rumour.
I had a lot of extra pears this summer so I made perry from five kilos of them. The final result fit in two 600-ml bottles. And the perry in each bottle was a different colour. No idea why but the yellow one tastes better than the red one. I’m buying a press next year and making more. It’s that or throwing out for those pears. They start rotting the moment they hit ripe yellow.
Big C. and I got married on September 21, 2008. After eight years in sin, that is. So we celebrate two anniversaries every year — of the date we met and the date we married. And even though I’m no fan of cut flowers he keeps buying them for me on the September anniversary. This year, he hit the bull’s eye with the chrysanthemums. In case you’re wondering how come he doesn’t know by heart what my favourite flowers are my answer would be why should he? It’s not like I’ve made an effort to make him memorise it. I’m not in the change-him-for-the-better game. I’m in the equal partnership game. On a side note, if anyone decides to make perfume that smells of chrysanthemums, please let me know.