beginning of winter

I had this great post planned out.

I was going to give you a walking tour of my neighbourhood.

I had it planned out so well. I waited till just the right time of the afternoon. I put on my coat and scarf and the fingerless mittens. Put Felix on his leash. I had visions in my head of a series of snapshots, detailing the route. Each one would have the dog walking ahead on his leash in the foreground; perhaps a tiny corner of my hand, a la Wolfenstein. Perhaps in a couple, even my toe as I took a step. But the focus would be the scenery, which would change.

It was all going to be very artistic.



It wasn't.

I'm not a photographer.

But I still wanted to show you properly where I live. And more importantly, why the landscape has been a comfort to me the last couple of days. When the mist has suddenly appeared, curling over itself in the sudden beginnings of Winter. That first green chill; its fallen chestnuts.

Because it's just so beautiful.


And it's hard to stay depressed when you see that every day.

And you know, the bizarre thing is, I'm not sure I would've even noticed this if I hadn't been feeling so damn rotten. I don't usually pay that much attention. Not like this.

In fact, I can picture it: This time last year, I probably would have rushed inside after work, switched on America's Next Top Model, made a quick pasta from a jar, and done some marking for another few hours.



Before all this, I would've been blind to anything as quiet as the seasons' change.

Blind to anything slower than me.