As we near the end of October, the weather has decided to change. The rainy season has begun, making it clear (as clear can be through misty grey clouds) why it is said that we live on the Wet Coast. Baby and I have been soothed and lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic pattering of the rain during the nights. The rythmn changed to a raging tempo as a storm brewed, blowing raindrops splatting against the glass. It was no longer soothing, but chilling. The next day proved why, as we passed shredded branches and some good-sized trees splayed forlornly across lawns.
And while the rains have begun, the deep jewel tones of the remaining flowers shine even brighter against the steel grey skies as the last rich treasures of autumn.
Savour them deeply for they will soon be mere transulcent shreds of memory.
