November 7, 2008
Maybe it’s because I’m a September baby, but I love Autumn.
There is something almost magical about a solitary walk through Kensington Gardens, wrapped up in a snug plum-coloured coat, brown boots crunching red and golden leaves while their friends fall around you.
About standing at the edge of the Round Pond, laughing as the pigeons and ducks do battle for scraps of mouldy bread chucked with glee by chubby, red-faced toddlers while their parents hold them back from the water’s edge.
About the prim tranquilty of the swans, preening and cleaning amidst the chaos. About the people, of all colours, shapes and sizes, experiencing their own piece of autumnal heaven.
In moments like these, everything seems alright with the world. God is everywhere – in the trees, in the grass, in the leaves that still show off their colours with pride, even when lying on the ground defeated, in the birds, in the ducks and swans, in the giddy dogs lapping up every second of freedom, in the children constructing piles of leaves to jump in.
The combination of the experience leaves me so deliriously happy I want to dance. It is as though time has stopped. There is just this microcosm of autumnal happenings, uniting all of us in the park, adults, children, animals, birds, while life whirs by outside.
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