The weather has been turning cold, windy and wet. Street lights and head lights are being reflected in the wet tarmac. Raincoats and umbrellas are rushing through the streets. Everybody wants to get home quickly. Flocks of birds are moving across the sky.
The garden is still yielding carrots and parsley. Red cabbage and kale will soon be harvested. But the life of plants is draining away into the ground and soon the soil will be frozen. The bicycle has been brought downstairs into the cellar.
Raindrops are forming random patterns on the window panes, showing distorted upside-down images of what is out there. Each one creates a different view.
Raindrops are splashing
Clinging to the window pane
Each one a small lens
Soon it is getting dark outside and curtains are being closed. Inside, however, it is warm and snug. This is what my mother calls “good sleeping and reading weather”. Now starts the time of pots of tea on the teapot warmer, the time of cinnamon-flavored biscuits, the time of candles, of cardigans, cozy slippers and of warm water bottles.
And this is the time of reading books, of studying, of thinking. Everything is turning inwards; the impressions, the thoughts and ideas of the spring and the summer are being distilled and concentrated. But then they will be sent out again, since this also is the time of writing.
(The picture is from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GGB_refraction_in_rain_droplets.jpg)