autumn days

As my hastened steps scattered autumn leaves through Wandsworth Park this morning I was struck by the realisation of how truly seasonal life is.
Too early for the mist to have lifted, its ghost-like effect prompted a beautiful scene of clouded browns and greens and the significance, when compared to the season in which I am in, was profound.
Neither here nor there, my autumn is a transitional phase where I am shedding what summer has caused to flourish and waiting to go into a time of contemplation and decision. Winter is not a time to hibernate, as much of the animal kingdom proposes, but to rise above the urge to lie dormant and become proactive in life.
Regardless of my African origins, my dominant Scottish roots ensure that winter is the season in which I thrive.
However, this year’s winter will go by relatively unappreciated as I look, unusually, towards summer. As I spend this time working my way to sunlight, I see the coming months, which now hold much promise of fulfilment.
Uncharacteristically, I stopped to take a picture. Such a moment needed to be captured in more than just my spirit.