All the time in the world

Sometimes we act as if we have all the time in the world. That is what I did yesterday when, on my way to my in-laws, I took a detour and walked around aimlessly for one and a half hour.

They live in a village located at 30 km. to Bucharest. The field looks good in this mid-September, but it would be better if it would rain, the plough land turned grey. I have chosen a road poorly circulated, nobody passed by while I was there. I use to say I come here, in this familiar nature, to run from the big city. It is partly true, because is as much “run from” as it is “run to”. This landscape soothes me as it did when I was a child and rode a horse’s wagon with my grandfather. I frightened a few pheasants while walking. Strange birds, I thought, why walk when you can fly?

I was drawn by this old fountain, which does not water anybody no more; surprised to see it here, all covered in lichens. It was like remembering something by looking to an old picture found by chance on the bottom of a drawer.

The autumn is here, you can see it although it keeps low profile. The apples turned red, so are starting to do the leaves of the old cherry tree. The cucumbers are at the second generation, so do the green melons. The tomatoes are done, so are the grapes from the small vineyard. Autumn is my favorite season; cannot wait to see the naked trees and the incredible green of the wheat. The long rains chasing people inside cozy homes. The wind ruffling the girls’ hair. The empty streets.

I stayed until the honey-like-light fainted. The chill of the evening certain felt like autumn.