The Woods in September

 September in the woods is a little miracle. It is as though the summer is saying, “OK, I know my time is over, and you probably feel a little cheated with August, which is nearly always a disappointment, but never mind, this will be my swan song. Here is the warm beauty of May all over again, but this time tinged with just the slightest shade of sadness, like the freckles of brown and black on the leaf of a fern. For thesen glorious, blue days are your last days. Make sure you use them well.”

River Colne in Ruby's Wood

River Colne in Ruby’s Wood

I walked with my camera today, and saw the lace curtain of autumn. And my camera’s battery died!

This is how it is when you’re getting ancient. The universe shows you its beauty, more beautiful than ever before, but the batteries aren’t charged enough to do anything with the vision.

From someone’s standpoint – anyone, really, other than me today, this is uproariously funny. The irony is superb.




About stevehobsonauthor

I am blind, and I hate it. It stinks. But life is still sweet. I have multiple sclerosis, and that stinks too, but life is still sweet. These are my musings.
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One Response to The Woods in September

  1. Tricia says:

    Summer still lingers in the Western Isles. Indeed Barra masqueraded as an island in the tropics complete with palm trees. X


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