Sometimes it rained, but when it did, it truly poured; other times, everything was a radiance of blue - Pico Iyer, The Lady and the Monk.
After a whole weekend of English-winter drudgery - days of constant rain, the sky so dark you need a light on at noon, and that depressing cold-humid dampness that could permeate the walls of a bank vault - the sun came back out, turning maple leaves snooker-ball red and making the mountains as clearly visible as a fifty pound note on an empty pavement.
The nights are drawing in and the mornings turning chilly, but when autumn in Japan is good, it is, as Iyer wrote, "like I had never known autumn before".
No comments:
Post a Comment