Autumn Afternoons

Autumn arrived precisely on the second day of October. It started as the day before, blue sky with no clouds, the sunrays powerful enough to warm up his back while sitting alone on the porch. 

Then, before the night fell, it started to rain. He listened to the raindrops on the window for two days, and when he saw the sun next, suddenly all the leaves on the trees turned into yellow. The air was crisp and cool, and he never went out anymore without a warm sweater. He did not leave his house much, though; he could not walk long before feeling pain in his knees, so preferred the comforting warmth of his den. 

He's been owning a grandfather's chair in brown leather for decades. He remembered it now as he had seen in first, in the window of the furniture store, looking classy and inviting. The store assistant had told him it would develop patina over time, and made him promise to take care of the leather. 'Fine things last longer if you take care of them'- he had told him. He knew this, but was not sure if his children knew, too. They hardly visited him anymore, always referred to 'business' and 'hectic life'. His grandchildren were greatly missed, too. In the summer they came over often, but now he has not seen them for weeks. He could always see that picture, his little granddaughter hopping up the stairs, sporting yellow dress, two plaits and bright smile with missing tooth. 

He let out a heavy sigh.     

The leather armchair still looked fine, and he directed it so that he could easily look out of the window, and enjoy the sight of the golden leaves. His afternoon routine was simple: he put on the kettle for tea and placed a tin of biscuits on the side table. The table had a fabric pocket hanging underneath the top, making it a perfect place for his newspapers. A soft blanket lay in a woven basket on the other side of the chair, right in his reach, ready to warm his legs when the sun disappeared behind the houses. After finishing the papers he picked up a book. In the evenings he even lit up the fire in the fireplace, and read by the light of the pear-shaped table lamp. 

Now he contemplated the sight on the other side of the window. The sun felt warm through the glass, making him sleepy. It was a quiet leafy street with almost no noise. Nothing to disturb his solitude.  

Then he heard it. 

Someone was hopping up the stairs. 

Roof terrace for stargazing

He was a free spirit. 

At nights he took his motorbike out of the garage, and through the empty, dimly lit streets, his bike took him out of town, where the stars shone brighter, the grass was tall and wild, and he was laying on the ground for hours, gazing happily up the starry sky. 

A long time passed this way, and he thought this was how things were supposed to be.
Then came the moment when he finally found the one, the one he thought he would never meet; but settling down came with a price. She lived far in a big, noisy city where the street lights outshone the stars, the grass in the park was well-kept and cut short. She led a totally different life that included last minute meetings, presentations, rush hours and Starbucks takeaway lattes.  

The choice had to be made.

He gave up his motorbike, bid farewell to the sleepy town and moved in with her. The first months were spent with decorating the new home, the top floor apartment in an older red brick building - the love nest as she called it. 

Naturally she adored every moment of the renovation. He - well, he did not. What is so enjoyable in selecting cushions, discussing durable materials and harassing the carpenter with a new storage bench? And, by the way, he still could not make up his mind between green and brown. These natural colours reminded him of the tall grass outside of his birth town. After a mild row she bought furniture in both colours. He did not say a word. There was only one thing he insisted on: the Route 66 wall marquee. When she saw it, she just rolled her eyes with an indulgent smile. He did not notice, as he was too busy with hanging the string of light bulbs above the table. 

Over the coming months he gradually settled in, found a job and new friends. The rooftop terrace was the center of laugh and fun when their friends came over for late night dinner. It was good. 

But sometimes, in the middle of the night, when he could not sleep, he climbed out of the bed quietly and went upstairs, to the rooftop terrace. 

There stood her gift - the telescope.
He could look at the stars anytime now, whenever he wanted, closer than ever. So he was laying on the bench for hours, gazing happily up to the starry sky. 

Happy July the 4th!

Happy Independence Day to my American readers! 

- Hello, Darling, I just thought I call you before the party starts. How are you doing?

- Hello, Sweetheart, thank you for asking, I have just finished decorating the family room and the terrace, while Hubby is outside preparing the dishes. Since we bought a cute retro pop-up hot dog toaster, he wants to eat hot dog all the time.

- I am sure your place looks fantastic, you are the master of decorating. How does it look like this year?

- Naturally I kept the stars and stripes theme, with star ornaments, the usual colours, but this year I went for a retro touch. Actually the toaster gave me the idea. Hubby found an extaordinary wall shelf, that looks like the front of a retro Chevrolet Corvette. It is temporarily mounted on the wall in the back porch, it is such an eye grabber. I will put the dishes on it. To keep up with the vintage style, drinks will be served in bottles with striped straws.

- Cool idea. Have you decorated the garden as well?

- Yes, the lanterns are hanging from the trees. I also found a smaller striped one with stars, they will be on the porch, I am just about to place them, so I have to hang up for now. I hope you will have a great night!

- Thanks. Happy Independence Day to you!

Coffee Nook in the Summer House

The heat is always followed by a storm, she mused. In the far distance one could see the dark blue clouds hovering over the trees, approaching the hill slowly. The frowst was almost touchable and heavy with anticipation. 

It is going to be so much better after the storm has passed, she reckoned. There was nothing else to do in the garden anyway - she already picked the strawberries, deep red and juicy under the leaves, some half eaten by the snails - the garden was clean, the grass cut, and it was not the apple season yet. The cottage overlooked a slope that ended in a small, airy forest she loved taking walks in. Where she used to love taking walks in, she corrected herself, remembering the old times. Behind the house green meadows with tall grass streched until the horizon. She could easily see anyone coming - not that she had many visitors, at least not often, and most certainly not the one she really expected. The heat, she figured, is not everyone's cup of tea. 

When stepping into the cool hallway, she could hear the first raindrops on the roof. The wind has awakened and rattled the shutters. I could do with a cup of coffee, she thought. Kicking off her gum boots - the stone floor felt chilly against her soles - she headed into the tiny kitchen. 

The premises were small, just enough for two, so back then she had picked white furniture and simply whitewashed the exposed brick walls, as this way she could expand the sense of space. She also acquired some wicker baskets - they came very handy when she needed storage, yet wanted the kitchen to look organized. Some accessories in bright red and faded blue created tension - she loved it, but he never understood it. You do need some contrast on your life - she reasoned. 

The woman sunk into the comfortable wicker chair - the thick cushion made it softer, embracing her like a cocoon. Nibbling on the the berry cookies made in the morning, she sipped her coffee. The thunder could hardly be heard anymore, it was quiet outside. The light slowly found its way through the layers of clouds. 

Yes, she thought. After the storm the sun always shines brighter.