So. Hi.
This beautiful video reminds me of late summer. A time which I'm not particularly looking forward to, but is very pleasant, and very late-summer-evening-light-ish. It just makes me want to sit on my porch all day, until the night starts to fall, and stubbornly stay out there with blankets and sweaters until the golden sunset fades, and all that is left is pure darkness.
Denmark hasn't quite grasped the idea that it is still summer, and is slowly reverting to fall-like temperatures. Especially tonight, as I felt cold drafts of wind blow up my dress, and had to put on an extra sweater or two, it felt as if fall is not far away. And for once, I actually didn't mind. The fact that we might have an early fall this year didn't seem extremely unpleasant to me. Perhaps it's because I haven't contemplated that I will be wrapped up in sweaters and scarves and hats and mittens and big parkas the remainder of this year, but a bit of fall-weather seems appealing to me right now...
A woolen sweater. Huddling up under a blanket and watching a girly movie, just because I'm exhausted and it's raining. Baking cookies and eating them fresh out of the oven. Borrowing sweaters or flannel shirts to keep warm. Lying in bed with the comforter up to about my ears. Watching the leaves change color from green and bitter yellow, to warm reds and browns and yellows and purples. Wearing my leather jacket. Drinking hot cocoa or warm coffee with the choir girls before and after choir, trying to warm up from the inside. The simple joy in finding a lost pair of woolen socks. The chill of a rustling wind going up my skirt. A ray of tell-tale sunshine in the bitter cold and rain, reminding me that fall really isn't that bad, as long as I have an umbrella, and a warm jacket.
Am I boring or weird for thinking about fall? I've always been a firm believer in summer, and that's absolutely still my very favorite season. I love summer: I love the heat, the sun, the sea, my tan, being outside, wearing my bikini under absolutely everything, the itch of my pollen allergy, the way my elbows look black from tanning, wearing cheap sunglasses, giving up on my nailpolish because it gets worn off from swimming in the sea, seeing my toes in a new pair of sandals, having sand stuck in positively all my cracks, and lying around in the sun like a ghekko, absorbing all the heat. I love it.
But somehow, last year, I came to terms with fall. For the longest time, fall was my worst enemy, my nemesis, my never-ending battle of the seasons. I absolutely hated it. Now, I think I might actually like it. It might be because I'm inside the safety of my room, that I've finally absorbed enough sun to keep me going (at least for a week), or simply because I'm tired and don't feel like doing anything that even reminds me of an activity. But right now, I'm kind of looking forward to fall.
Don't tell anyone I said that, though.
Denmark hasn't quite grasped the idea that it is still summer, and is slowly reverting to fall-like temperatures. Especially tonight, as I felt cold drafts of wind blow up my dress, and had to put on an extra sweater or two, it felt as if fall is not far away. And for once, I actually didn't mind. The fact that we might have an early fall this year didn't seem extremely unpleasant to me. Perhaps it's because I haven't contemplated that I will be wrapped up in sweaters and scarves and hats and mittens and big parkas the remainder of this year, but a bit of fall-weather seems appealing to me right now...
A woolen sweater. Huddling up under a blanket and watching a girly movie, just because I'm exhausted and it's raining. Baking cookies and eating them fresh out of the oven. Borrowing sweaters or flannel shirts to keep warm. Lying in bed with the comforter up to about my ears. Watching the leaves change color from green and bitter yellow, to warm reds and browns and yellows and purples. Wearing my leather jacket. Drinking hot cocoa or warm coffee with the choir girls before and after choir, trying to warm up from the inside. The simple joy in finding a lost pair of woolen socks. The chill of a rustling wind going up my skirt. A ray of tell-tale sunshine in the bitter cold and rain, reminding me that fall really isn't that bad, as long as I have an umbrella, and a warm jacket.
Am I boring or weird for thinking about fall? I've always been a firm believer in summer, and that's absolutely still my very favorite season. I love summer: I love the heat, the sun, the sea, my tan, being outside, wearing my bikini under absolutely everything, the itch of my pollen allergy, the way my elbows look black from tanning, wearing cheap sunglasses, giving up on my nailpolish because it gets worn off from swimming in the sea, seeing my toes in a new pair of sandals, having sand stuck in positively all my cracks, and lying around in the sun like a ghekko, absorbing all the heat. I love it.
But somehow, last year, I came to terms with fall. For the longest time, fall was my worst enemy, my nemesis, my never-ending battle of the seasons. I absolutely hated it. Now, I think I might actually like it. It might be because I'm inside the safety of my room, that I've finally absorbed enough sun to keep me going (at least for a week), or simply because I'm tired and don't feel like doing anything that even reminds me of an activity. But right now, I'm kind of looking forward to fall.
Don't tell anyone I said that, though.
Thanks for listening,
I Am Roseberry.
No comments:
Post a Comment