peripathetic

Autumn
It must be autumn now. The sunlight is as bright as ever when it shines, but seems thinned-out somehow, less heavy. The birds hop faster and tweet louder around the feeder in the back garden, getting ready for their journey south. This morning, when I got out of bed and opened the bathroom window, I felt a breeze on the colder side of cool snake into the room. The combination of hot water and autumn air on my skin instantly released autumn memories.

Getting up earlyish on Sundays in London to join Jonathan on a trip to the V&A, with a chilly, happy walk to Patesserie Valerie afterwards. Sitting near the door of Dome on Old Compton Street, savouring the contrast between warm colours inside and the occasional blast of cold when the door opened. Streets in Highgate Village blazing red with leaves, and an old brick wall in St Albans, silvered and prickly with frost.

I'll miss being in London in the autumn, but not just for being in London. Trains from London take you quickly and directly to towns like St Albans in Hertfordshire. A charming little countryside town, old, rich, well-heeled, with some of the bustle of London. Mist muffles the streets in the morning, and the air is clean and still enough to let each season through. Winter is bitter and crisp there, but with none of the lashing winds of Kent. Autumn is scattered with leaves and bright with warm shop-fronts in the old square.

And Belfast? Autumn here is occasionally bright and cold, which is why this morning has brought on this reminiscence. Usually, though, it's greyer and wetter than it should be, than I imagine autumn in Connecticut or Vermont or Boston to be. Which is why I'm going out now, to enjoy the day... and here's something which caught my eye earlier.

This was meant to be posted yesterday, but blogger wasn't having any of it.