The heat of late summer moves over the southern land in relentless waves, and I keep insisting in seeing unobvious signs of a much too early fall all over my little world.
September days have arrived in vaporous mellow skirts and it sits over my days like a shy damsel from an aristocratic family waiting
to be introduced to the world at the coming of age. Soon.
We waited for the promised downpour the other evening. A storm was taking shape on the western sky and a most captivating of a limelight streamed through the window, enticing me outside. I followed the voices and took a few pictures of our little white cottage wrapped under this light...
The world felt grand and awesome, and I had this marvelous sensation of having stumbled right into a fairy tale book of dreams and whimsy.
I waited leaning against dreams and fairytales as the world was gently swallowed up by this light and the first shadows descended upon earth...
...waited for the sound of rain to lull me to sleep later on, but rain never came. We need the absolute blessing of a rainfall. Trees and shrubs and roses resemble the mourning women of yesterdays...
I keep bringing in more roses and making more bouquets, and I cannot truly say if my heart favors the fresh roses above the dried ones, for I have a special fondness for those dear rosesouls that so well know how to keep their true colors intact well beyond death.
We borrow ideas from each other. We are kindred...
Then, we add our own special touches and flair to make the idea our own. I like to add tiny fairy lights on my jars of dried roses. In the early morning and evening when I turn them on, they look like fireflies among the roses in the jar...
It's been say that when you’re feeling your worst, that’s when you get to know yourself the best. I am a total hermit and a mute soul. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
As summer wanes and fall moves in, I find myself adding more fairy lights to our rooms... in the early mornings all the little lights are turned on to welcome the new day in shimmering soft light. I'm keeping this lamp in our living room turned on again every morning. I don't usually would do this during our bright summer days when pungent sunlight bathes the earth before we're up, but as shadows linger I look forward to the romantic softness bestowed by small lights.
I remember when I was around 13 or 14 years of age sitting alone on the tiny balcony in my parent's 5th floor apartment after dusk, my eyes and heart fixated on a lamp-illuminated window on a lower floor on the building right across ours. How I loved it then that dusky, soft light reflecting on the window. The warmth and coziness of the otherwise dark interiors talked to me in profound, magical ways I could not even pretended to understand back then, as I imagined my own little home illuminated by the romantic soft light of lamps, and a husband I wasn't even able to put a face on in my young mind. But the thought made me felt good allover and the feelings have remained with me ever since.
A soft light in the window...
A cottage. A loving husband to share my days and nights with.
Dreams do come true.
I hope to feel better soon. I hope my pen grows wings, and freedom will find its way back into my soul. I hope you are blessed with a bountiful of peaceful, lovely days.
