It has been all up and down this week. Lots of drawing, and distraction. Peering at vast, heathered mountains in the sun, and three days of watching rain, which sometimes had the look of snow to my Canadian eye.
Guitar chords are swaying their way in through the neighbours' wall and there are fiddle tunes riding out of the back room. I have the computer's hush and the cars in the street and a little jumping candle flame. I like that the apartment has a busyness to it tonight, not just the wind battering itself against the stony sides of the place and rushing in at the chimney to leave soot on the carpet.
An orange-eyed cat lives on the ground floor of this building, and sometimes sits in the middle of the hallway beside its proper apartment, all eyes and grey hairs. We have to step around it, all it can do is stare... or so we thought until yesterday when we turned around to find it watching us intently as we fumbled into our front door, two floors up. It can also creep silently up stairs.
The nights are beginning to feel heavy and rich, like wooden furniture in dark hallways, and smoke from wood fires on cold, dark walks through piles of leaves. That is maybe a dream of home, I always dream of home once the nights get longer. Then all I can think about is how the leaves should be rioting colours all over the place, not just dying meekly. Though, on Saturday there were big, brightly coloured mushrooms beneath the trees, pressing up out of the earth to sit like fallen candy apples, and a lot of pheasants tumbling their reds and iridescent greens down hill past them.