Indian summer. Autumn with its "small" amount of rain, "lots" of sun and its lovely smells and dazzling colors. For me, an inseparable connection with autumn in The Netherlands. More specific with the garden of my mother-in-law - she died a couple of years ago. I took care of her grass (mowing) and hedges (cutting) and all other sawing, chopping and pruning for more than fifteen years. Year after year. Season after season. All that is gone now. The house has since been sold.
I miss feeling the seasons physically in that garden. The smells and colors close. Raspberries, blackberries, plums, cherries, walnuts, sweet chestnut, beech nuts and ... - there must be more. Mushrooms. And I miss the feeling of having a second home. Mostly we stayed for a night on the weekend, every other week, with the kids. The kids playing in the 1.5 hectare big garden. Having dinner and a few glasses of wine when it's dark outside. Sleep well and deep after a hard day work.
In my second home I had three books of my own on a shelf. Only these three - not one more:
- Gavin Maxwell, Ring of Bright Water (1960)
- Nescio, Natuurdagboek (1950's)
- Virgil, Georgica (around 29 BC), in a Dutch translation
Mostly I browsed in these three books when I was in the mood for reading. Read some lines or a couple of pages. I found out that I only was able to understand Virgil when I read out his lines loud.
I don't know where I came from but I like simple, calm and basic. Being comfortable with the imperfect = perfect me. Nothing wrong with cities and big cities. But sometimes it feels for me that a lot of (or most?) people in the "cities" lost track of where they came from and how to stay calm. For me the next lines are stating the obvious but I know for a lot of (or most?) people it's not.
P.S. Page 'The World' is from Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive (2015). Check out the quotes: here. WOW!
P.P.S. Source Indian Summer picture: here.
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