Green fields are turning yellow, wild geese and swallows are back.
The snow and ice are gone, and I went for a ride. Raced through the forest, stopped to listen to the silence. Heard birds. Smelled newly cut trees. Heard water running. Smelled moss and wet earth. Saw wild geese in the fields. Felt sun and wind on my skin. It felt good.
By the seaside and in the fields, soaking up the beautiful light. In the garden, watching things grow, watching leaves fall, watching the drops after the rain. Out and about in a city with two rivers. Down in the south, picking chestnuts, picking fresh thyme. Home again, and November’s there.