I really love this time of year, the start of London’s autumn. The air is soft and warm during the day and when the sun comes out it basks you in all its glory, bringing with it a light humidity and a brightness that intensifies London’s surrounding red and golden colours. Once the sun goes down, the nights become crisp and cool, perfect to open up the windows and let the soft night’s breeze cool you down. My top floor flat is narrow with big windows and skylights facing in every direction, so it has sunshine streaming through at all hours of the day, from sunrise to sunset. This really heats things up over summer but is a godsend during the winter months when natural light can be scarce and is very welcome.
As autumn slowly sets in, the colours start to change and the trees begin to brighten and take on a stunning golden tone. When you start to notice small piles of leaves forming on the ground then you know the summer has come and gone. The squirrels are out in full force foraging for chestnuts that are tumbling from high up in the trees, creating a sense of invincibility each time your head has a near miss with a chestnut catapulting from above.
And then it hit me. No, it literally hit me. A falling chestnut from the tree I was walking under. It landed right on top of my head, the soft, spiky shell cracked in half and the chestnut fell to the ground. I almost kept it as a souvenir but figured I didn’t need any more negativity in my life.
Nature has a way of inspiring me like nothing else. It gets my mind ticking and creative juices flowing (in a non-creepy way). Nothing cures a blocked mind more than fresh air and I find myself constantly seeking excuses to venture out into London’s many open, green spaces or retreating from the rain inside coffee shops with the biggest windows, flooded in natural light.
I’m a lover of nature until I find myself in nature. Does anyone else have this problem? Let me explain. I love lying in open fields, feeling the grass between my toes and watching the lady bugs crawl… until one lands on me. I love climbing old trees to swing from the hanging branches, until I spot a spider and scatter away in fear. I love walking in the rain, until I get soaked and the fun goes away. I love camping when… no wait, there’s nothing I like about camping. Maybe I can call myself an urban naturist, living in an urban jungle. I wouldn’t call London a concrete jungle, there’s too much greenery and too many big, open parks for that (plus I don’t think Alicia Keys would be too happy about me stealing New York’s claim to fame). I would, however, call it a brick jungle. A mossy, red brick jungle.
Photos have been taken a day before London’s first official day of Autumn, Tuesday 23rd Sept 2014
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