We’re on earlies this week, which means getting up at 6am for a change. The weather is still gorgeous. And since the workday has shifted I’ve been going out for a walk at seven in the morning, when only the odd dog walker is around and a few cars heading to work. It’s more peaceful than being out during the school rush, I can say that much. The biggest difference, though, is the light.
When I go out later in the day, it’s bright and clear. The fields are green and yellow, and the only thing that tells me that summer is on the way out is the fact that every now and then you’ll catch the deep thrum of a combine harvester on the air.
Today though, right at the start of my walk and just down the hill from our home, I caught this golden glow. It’s not the bright, sharp gold of later autumn afternoons when they light is low and the air is so clear it seems to glitter. It’s more of a soft, silky promise. Something breathtaking that’s not quite there yet.
And then, heading a little further up the lane and turning to where the night still held sway over the landscape, I came across this view.
Nothing moved and the mist hung like a layer of lace between the trees. It immediately made me think of a book cover. It would be the sort of story I’d love to curl up with. A suspense or mystery, where the obvious obscures what’s real and nothing is quite as it seems.
It’s not a good idea to wake the plot bunnies at the beginning of my walk. And they were out in force in very short order. A hunt for buried treasure came to mind, or a sacret quest that anyone but the hero has no knowledge of. Plus probably half a dozen others, all straddling that mysterious time when the brightness of summer blends into the mellow mystery of autumn. I love this time of year, when it’s still balmy out even while it gets dark earlier every night.
And every now and then I rediscover that late summer / early autunm mornings – very early mornings – have their glorious moments too. So while the weather is summery, I might be inclined to roll out of bed at dawn and go walking when nobody else is around. For views, for time of reflection, and for the myriad of plot bunnies out at that time of the morning.