Indian Summer

Not too many weeks ago I was moaning about the cold weather. As I do. But it seems it was short lived. The weather, not my moaning.

Indian summer is having a long, languid stay. The call for mint juleps and listening to old records seems appropriate. As does saying ‘I do declare’ while lazing away the afternoon on the veranda.

As my children and I clung to the last of the school holidays, we walked to the village for a spot of lolly buying. The beauty of living in a tourist area is (for the kids) an old fashioned lolly shop. For me it is the utter beauty of our surroundings.

The thing is, as I live here, travel the road each day for work and school I take it for granted. I go for runs, oblivious to it all.  I drive with my local beauty goggles on.

On that walk, I took in where we live again. Viewed the surrounds like a tourist ferried in on one of the busses that arrive daily. Noticed the path on the hill towards home has a deep groove from the rain. Mud and gravel washed away in a ever deepening ditch. Saw the trees, their leaves hues of red, orange and brown.The piles of leaves milling at the base of tall chestnuts. Marvelled at the masses of spiked balls opening up showing the smooth round of the russet chestnuts inside.

I remembered why we chose to live here.

And I promised myself to look. Really look when I am out.

Walking, running, driving.

I have the best of both. The small village and the big city less than an hour away.

I have time to sit and declare. Time to run and some just to breathe.

It is life. It is good. Live it well.

  1. Megan @ Writing Out Loud |
  2. Kirrily |
  3. Meags K |
  4. claireyhewitt |
  5. Lucy |
  6. Bestpam |

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