03 November 2011
season of ...
It was pouring with rain. I opened the door to find him standing there soaked, holding a big bunch of sunflowers, the very last to be picked today from one of his school gardens. They are gorgeous, and certainly brought a bit of light into the kitchen as it got dark outside. Nevertheless, I do find it somewhat unnerving. I've been bracing myself for the change of seasons for weeks now, holding on to summer for as long as I could, then mentally preparing to batten down the hatches. It put me on edge. I suppose it didn't help that I'd been reading The Long Winter and immersed myself during insomniac nights in blizzards, frozen livestock, a monotonous diet potatoes day in day out. We had a couple of days in the middle of October when the wind got up and litter and leaves were scattered up the street and mistiness seeped along the canal in the morning. And after the clocks turned back and the darkness started to creep in earlier, it finally felt that the season might have turned at last. Then sunflowers on the kitchen table.
Oh, and he tells me he saw three peregrines too today, all at once.