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Banbury Cross

a pillow for lost thoughts...

Post details: Indian Summer

Indian Summer

October is an affectionate month.

The summer is all packed up and ready to leave but comes back one more time to sit down with us and reminisce on the season gone by. It won't say a thing, it just caresses our hands with its warmth and lets its rays percolate through yellowing leaves or reflect on a playful creek. Nostalgia serves its mulled wine. It feels like standing on an extended platform of a rural train station with the steam engine already blowing its foggy envelope. Last embrace and a quick peck on the cheek and off we go.

October is the time when you tickle the sacrificial lamb.

It is still alive and hopping around on a bruised lawn. You watch its little capers, you pet it on its wooly head, but its days are sharply numbered. The show is just about over and the last chords of music are singing their swan song. Or is it just your imagination? It feels like the melodies have gone already but wooden panels and upholstering still bear imprints of their sound waves. And so does your memory. It won't let go easily. The lamb snatches its last clump of grass.

October is the green flash of the setting sun.



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