Autumn mornings belong to writers, I think. The milky sweetness of hot tea and the crisp crunch of dewy air from outside an open window combine to hit that sweet-spot of the senses, filling one’s nostrils and lungs with a forceful rush of hot and cold. Within an easterly room, the sun blinds the eyes with more brilliance than Gandalf’s reincarnation, filling the little kitchen — nay, stuffing it with light and light-ness, pushing its way through the darkness, building up shadows along the sides of the cabinets and cupboards until the shadows have squeezed so tightly together they begin considering diet options.


4 thoughts on “Autumn

  1. Rose Mueller says:

    I am so happy that you have more time for writing blog posts again!

  2. jubilare says:

    Yes. At least, it is also so for me. This is the season when writing comes most easily to me, and enjoy it the most. Heck, I even enjoy living the most when it is Autumn.

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