![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Not quite autumn
Sep. 20th, 2010 03:34 pmToday I am sitting in my favourite cafe (also known as my surrogate living-room; cost notwithstanding I do treat this place as an extension of my living space!) looking out of the window and watching the world go by.
The weather in Scotland is famously unpredictable; it is also often quite beautiful in that very changeability. At least I find it so, but I'm not entirely convinced that people who spend any amount of time here don't often end up developing a sort of Stockholm Syndrome with regard to the weather, a kind of expectation that the harsh treatment is desirable.
Today I watched as the heavy grey overcast gave way to the most beautiful golden slanting autumn sun simultaneous with a shimmering light rain shower. I could see every tiny droplet catch the light like a shining silver veil across the ordinary street-scene. The greens (and there is a lot of green here, gardens and trees and all) positively glowed as the low autumn sun turned them into a sort of natural stained glass window, and the rain-wet concrete turned from grey to a mirror-like silver. The first golds of autumn are just starting to show in the birches; they're mostly still green, just poised exactly on the cusp between summer and autumn, and that golden autumn light reflected that transition perfectly. Quite, quite beautiful.
The weather in Scotland is famously unpredictable; it is also often quite beautiful in that very changeability. At least I find it so, but I'm not entirely convinced that people who spend any amount of time here don't often end up developing a sort of Stockholm Syndrome with regard to the weather, a kind of expectation that the harsh treatment is desirable.
Today I watched as the heavy grey overcast gave way to the most beautiful golden slanting autumn sun simultaneous with a shimmering light rain shower. I could see every tiny droplet catch the light like a shining silver veil across the ordinary street-scene. The greens (and there is a lot of green here, gardens and trees and all) positively glowed as the low autumn sun turned them into a sort of natural stained glass window, and the rain-wet concrete turned from grey to a mirror-like silver. The first golds of autumn are just starting to show in the birches; they're mostly still green, just poised exactly on the cusp between summer and autumn, and that golden autumn light reflected that transition perfectly. Quite, quite beautiful.
