Week 37, already, Google says – somehow, a full three weeks without scribbling down the week’s brightest bright spots. Despite this, my heart feels very full. I love this time of year, I love the slow creep of autumn. If I could bottle this time, this feeling, I would. I’d drink it neat, I would.
So, bright spots, of late. Discovering a clutch of tomato plants growing in our front garden – mysteries abound (who planted them? who waters them? have they thrived despite months of neglect?) A lunchtime cookie so buttery its delicious grease ate through the brown paper bag. A dip in the King’s Cross Pond with my partner in crime/sister. Laughing so much at home, it seems we rarely have time for anything else. Iced coffee outside the National Theatre on a thirty degree day. How sweet he looks in a teal shirt. Waking on Friday morning to thunder rattling the panes, lightning illuminating the patch of sky beyond our window. Knitting a sea-green scarf everywhere – on the tube, during lunch, on the bus. Pruning the front garden roses and watching them burst into life, the very same week. Weekend noons appreciating the slow life at my grandparents’ bungalow. Prosecco and giggles with my best friend. Coffee on a Sunday noon with another best friend. Roasted pumpkin. A haircut. A night chilly enough for the hot water bottle. Fruit tea in the evenings. Homemade courgette cake. Grandad’s tomatoes, sweet as he is. Yoga in the greenhouse. Making flatbreads with Elle. A postcard from Regensburg, imploring me to visit – I smiled quietly about it the whole day long. Scrambled eggs on toast (he makes them best). The slow quiet of morning, as the hum of the water heater wakes the house. That the weather is cool enough to enjoy walking again, and so I am strolling everywhere I can, foregoing the bus, looking up and down and all around, waking early just to meander through these ever-changing city streets.