[Jeans: Next // sweater: Primark // Blazer: H&M // shoes: New Look]
I don’t consider autumn to be officially under-way until the day I get all of my winter clothes out of storage. And I don’t normally do that until the last week of September. (Which is… next week. Crap.)
That said, last Thursday definitely felt like a completely different season from the Wednesday that had preceded it. On Wednesday, I wore a cotton dress; my legs were bare and I applied an extra-thick layer of sunscreen when I went outside. On Thursday, I opened my eyes, and while it wasn’t exactly dark outside, there wasn’t any light in the sky either. The world was flat and grey, and I could feel autumn in the air: I know it’s the start of a new season, but to me it always feels like the end of something, and no amount of coats, boots and pumpkin-spiced latte can make up for the feeling that someone just switched the lights off on the world.
Wow, this is a super-cheerful post today, isn’t it? Perhaps I should have opened with something more cheerful, like, I don’t know, a three-legged kitten, say. That’s been orphaned.
As predicted, as soon as I sniffed the woodsmoke in the air, I immediately took refuge in my autumn uniform of (non-perfect) jeans and (worn-backwards) sweater, and went out in search of some crisp, dry leaves to kick. (Not to kick up in joy, you understand. Just to kick. Take that, autumn!) There weren’t any, obviously. Because, well, it’s still September. Instead, I found that the normally-broken flying fox (I’ve no idea if that’s the actual name for it, by the way, or just what we call it. It’s like a swing attached to a long cable and you whizz through the air on it?) (OK, I just Googled “flying fox” and I didn’t find any photos of swing-like playground apparatus, but it turns out some foxes actually CAN fly? My world is rocked.) at the park near our house was in that all-too-brief stage between being vandalised and being taken away for repairs, so I took full advantage of that and spent way too long playing like a little kid on it. (I don’t know how to describe what you do on a flying fox, either. Fly? Swing? Fox? What? Words are not my friends today.)
Naturally, only one of the photos of that actually turned out. But I definitely felt a whole lot more cheerful after that… foxing. And in my next house? I am SO having some kind of swing…
Edited to add: A zip wire. OF COURSE it’s called a zip wire. I have no idea why my mind drew a total blank on that, but I’m going to blame autumn for that, too. You see what this season does to me, people?