The weekend winds have all but gone and in their wake, a deepening autumn chill. On our current daily walks we find fresh young pine-cones and shake their branches gently to make clouds of pollen for Miles to watch. Miraculous moments followed by sneezing and clothes covered in yellow coloured dust. Beautiful, vengeful, flourescent air.
Today in the library I find myself restless again, distracted by the ticking clock and the giant fluffy cumulus clouds with their silvery underbellies, slowly passing by the windows. I do like being here, there is something comforting about people moving around you to find books, or write, or read to their children, I just wish I had my own private space sometimes.
This morning I realised that there is a moment, shortly after sunrise, shortly after the sun streams through every window in the house, when it goes completely dark again. Without doing any investigation, my theories are either that this is when the rising sun goes behind the tops of the trees behind our house, or it reaches a particularly point where the house is sheilded by the angle of our flat roof. Regardless it’s an odd feeling to see the light briefly disappear and for everything to go cold again.
Listening to: Wildflower Hour Podcast