One day I will probably make peace with the fact that I always run out of schedule with the monthly randoms, but until then I can pretend that at least this time I actually meant the stuff to run over two months, and therefore cover the transition from summer to autumn and such. No, of course I didn’t mean to, but so it happened.
The temperature is one thing, but what strikes most in this period is the change in the quality of the light. I somehow always take spring light, how it increases in intensity and how the days grow ever longer, for granted. But in autumn I always rebel against the dying of the light, and notice each day how it grows fainter, how the dawn arrives later. Horrifically late, I would say, as I grope around in the dark at 6 AM, fixing the horizon for that spot where the light will break- given that I’m surrounded by inner city buildings, the spot is usually somewhere behind a rooftop, but ultimately some sort of crimson spot will show at the bottom of the sky.
Or it won’t show, because we’ve been rudely transported to some Belgian weather bubble, with low grey skies and fine drizzle. And as pointed out by a fellow coffee drinker one morning, drizzle is the worst because it frizzles the hair and umbrellas just won’t solve that. Rain does however have a certain charm when observed from indoors, perhaps from a train hurtling through foggy meadows, so here comes the time for low lit still lives inspired by the Dutch masters.
The up side of autumn light when it does show itself is its balmy quality, which makes for spectacular sunsets and sunrises- and the later arrival of dawn allows for sunrise hunting without having to wake up insultingly early. Not that I succeeded in doing that so far, but I might as well try- until then I must make do with sunsets on Gellért hill, though they are not half as fun, as the sun unceremoniously ducks behind the hills in the process.