Autumn has finally arrived. Sort of. I woke up this morning to the sound of melodious rain drops – the gentle kind. That and a flooded driveway because someone had removed the stick I’d shoved down the side of the drain cover – mercifully it being Sunday, early and wet, there wasn’t any one around to have a goggle at a half-dressed English woman trying unsuccessfully to find the submerged lid before her first coffee. Nevertheless and filled with post-shower caffeine, I am a happy lass even if I’ve had to dig out a polo neck what with the temperature dropping at the same time as the pluie arrival. And I’ve left the lake outside for Denis to deal with.
I know it won’t be long until I’ll start complaining about the lack of warm rays on my back but I do love Autumn. Of course, there is that little matter of a rather big event at the end of the month but with the beginning of last week and the spectacular sight of the Harvest Moon, there is a distinct sense of change in the air. And it’s just as well as I’ve done something to my neck – hence the polo necks. Jacqui, my neighbour and former massage therapist, managed to find several areas nowhere near the actual place of ping that needed de-knotting but, alas for me, the cause of the crick is the work angle. Bending my noggin over pots and pendants is a no-no for the next week or so to give my tender tête tendons a break and give me enough down time to be ready for the Xmas (there I’ve said it again) markets. Meanwhile, my darling D has built me a computer table that is stand up height so I can hopefully get the website finished – said computer also has a new password since the afore-mentioned threw a certain piece of paper away and the lovely Lisa has lent me her shiatsu machine to ease the aches and pains at the end of the day. So plenty to do whilst the cou calms down and a great excuse not to get involved with organising certain birthday bashes. That I have left to Denis and Lisa, mostly the latter else I chuck D out of the nearest porthole.
Yet, with the season turning and white wine changed for the warmer red, the universe that is Sophi has already started to shift. The architect has finished the plans for my future domain and tomorrow hopefully, I can sign everything off for the powers that be who hold my construction permit in their palms. Actually, it’s the Mayor and he’s already said yes and I’ve sent him an invitation to the grand event. But my little plot isn’t the only pile I am about to take ownership of. L’Horte. Over the past couple of weeks and post-tornado trauma, discussions about our former homestead have been the subject of the sibling Whatsapp. This house sale as well but as big brother Simon wanted to sell his share, sis Bong living on another continent, little bro Moth on the fence and Severine and Nicola wanting to buy, we have come to an agreement. One that makes me beyond happy and our tenants ditto. I am keeping all the riverside land and they will have the middle bit; that is to say, I will be the only one of the family retaining a bit of the past. Why? Because the river was always my sanctuary and I want the land to remain the nature reserve it has become. Oh, and just in case the authorities are reading this, that little bit next to the main road too just in case you go in on your plan to widen the road; Severine said “over my dead body” by the way and they are holding onto the bigger bit. Yup, there is a definite change in the air and despite my need to walk around like a debutante with a first edition of Harry Potter on her head, I’m looking forward to what October brings. Apart from the end bit and another decade…
“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall” (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
