weathers

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Waking up yesterday morning, the world was covered in mist. Living on the third floor on the top of a small hill, I stood in my kitchen window and saw the southern suburbs of Stockholm gradually softening their corners and eventually disappear, the mist slowly turning orange from the rising sun.

After lunch, the skies were blue and I took Megan’s thesis to read it on the balcony. With no wind, I could comfortably sit there with a glass of ice tea, surrounded by my still-fruit-bearing tomato plants. My balcony has its own little micro climate.

At dusk, I took my daily run through the woods, where the maples are starting to get red edges but the oaks are still green. That soft, calming smell of moist, decaying leaves and early autumn.

And now, Friday morning, a milkiness to the blue sky, watching the yellowing top of the ash turn golden as the sun slowly reached over the roof of my house.

I love this time of year. Early autumn. It has all the colours. A crispness to the light. Flowers, still, the marigolds and nasturtiums are blooming bright orange on my balcony. The smell of apples.

It makes me think of one beautiful, misty morning in Lyon, their botanic garden, the softened edges of the trees around the lake and the most incredible dahlia display I have ever seen. If you ever end up with a couple of hours to spare between changing trains in Lyon, as I did, you have to walk up to the botanic garden. It is gorgeous.

Photo: Jardin botanique du Parc de la Tête d’Or, Lyon, France, October 2018. Posted on Instagram September 25, 2020.