seasons

65

I love seeing autumn unfold outside my living room window. The ash slowly turning from bright green to yellow and then, after a particularly windy night, stand there completely naked. The maples shift into orange and red. The aspen glow like torches, lit up from behind by the setting sun. And the pine tree seeming more and more blue in contrast to all the yellow and red decay.

The squirrels are back, jumping with terrifying agility between branches way too far apart, their coats shifted to the grey tones of winter. And the blue tit came by this morning, looking for food in the empty pots where my tomato plants used to grow.

There is something reassuring, seeing the seasons shift through the trees, every day from the angle of my living room. I’ve never lived for so long so close to trees before. I love it.

And I remember another autumn unfolding, in what seems like another world now. I was returning from a conference in San Sebastian, leaves changing color outside the train windows as I traveled north. On easy walking distance from the railway station, the old botanic garden in Hamburg in full autumn splendor. I wonder when I will get a chance to go back.

Photo: Alter Botanischer Garten Hamburg, Germany, October 2018. Posted on Instagram November 1, 2020.