Tag: Autumn

Daylight Saving’s Sunset

The street light shines like a false moon, highlighting the lovers on the beach.  Lovers in the autumn are different from lovers in the spring.  It is less flirtatious and random, more established and deep, like the matured color of the autumnal leaves.  Chilled walks along dimly light beaches, enjoying the empty landscape void of curious spirits and energetic footsteps, the mood is subdued.  It is not the beachfront of summer, where adventure and the impressionate beauty of the natural world create a flutter of intrigue in the heart.  This early sunset, and the long still night ahead, is for lasting lovers, it is for those who are not reliant on the inspiration of the environment to spark the beauty in the scene.



The Beautiful Beet


The enigmatic tendency of nature, the goal is beauty

Sexy curves confuse with a hypnotic dance

Uniform and unique the multitude of spiral slices

Are sweet and crisp

Delicate and divinely lush

A late summer gift, to remind you of the surprises

Still waiting to be unearthed.


Autumn’s Magical Tug

There’s something about September, something special in those precious final moments that desperately cling to the lure of summer’s dream.  The last night-cap after an adventure filled night, the last bite of gooey dessert, one more tight hug goodbye, a stolen kiss in the moonlight, the smell of the sunset, that last glance over your shoulder as you leave the room sending sparks in your eyes.  It’s a sense of longing, but having just one more second to enjoy the sense of serenity. Of fulfillment. Of peace.

There is a magical something about that late September feeling.  That anticipation of change, yet the reluctance to let go of summer’s charm.

This change in balance is about losing the force of the summer sun but gaining the crisp of fall.  It’s like the cracking of the delicate crème brulee, biting into a crisp wafer, snapping open that perfect apple.  The last puff of summer’s flame is the satisfaction of breaking something perfectly layered,  like crushing the layers in a buttery croissant, biting into a nutty baklava, breaking open a flaky turnover, crumbling a cookie, breaking a brittle.

These last few days are that particularly perfect standstill in the tug between the changing seasons.  Only rarely do we have this troubled serenity, like that moment of twilight when the sun has subsided, but Mr. Moon is still missing.