15th September 2012
A solitary nettle protrudes above the wild raspberries in the chill autumnal air. The green leaves of the fruit bushes are interspersed with rusty weeds lacking the suppleness they once enjoyed, like stiff and wizened old folk. The trees in front of my window still harness the green naivety of summer but strangely it is the interior branches that host the older leaves. Now yellow and as if punctured by a dirty nail dappled with brown spots which will soon spread like the veins in a blue cheese.
Beyond, a sliver birch still stands tall and green. One neighbour is a patchwork of green and yellow while yet another is almost completely transformed and will soon wear its full autumn cloak.
Low clouds puff along to the north as a heart-shaped hole of turquoise opens up like a beacon of hope. Through the hole, cumulo clouds form with bright tops touched by the sun.
The wind rustles through the leaves.
Perhaps this afternoon it will be sunny.
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