The thing about nature, right, is that it’s never static. It’s always on the go. A sun that sets 20 seconds earlier than yesterday is nothing, really, but for me it signals the long, slow descent into a sluggish and bleak winter.
Two years ago, I remember very vividly that we had a lovely heatwave in the first week of October. We were staying with my dad, and we all took a trip to the local zoo. I sat on a Hello Kitty teacup ride, wearing a summer dress accessorised by not one single goosebump, and I thought it would be pretty cool if it could stay like that forever.
But as I write this, in the first week of October, I’ve got slipper socks on and I’ve just unearthed my winter coat (not to wear at the same time, you understand). It’s not the only thing we’ve dug out from the archives hoping it still fits – Mouse has imitated a sunflower over the summer and shot up, so nothing from last year will do. My petite dolly number one has gone a bit gangly. And so, we’ve been trudging to various outfitters to assemble a nice but cheap AW16/17 wardrobe. There are such wholesome things to be had! Plum corduroy dresses and fluff-lined gilets, boots with shiny buckles and jumpers with foxes on. I wish I could pour my middle aged mum ‘contour’ into some aged 13-14 clobber.
Anyway, item one on the shopping list was a pair of new wellies, and despite me going completely off that fucker George Pig, Mouse remains a loyal devotee. Plus, these were the only style in the shop that had a size 6 in stock.
You can’t really see it, but much staging went into this photo. Mouse is stood in some autumnal ground foliage shizz, in wellies that are motif’d with winter. But the (very) late summer sun casts long shadows on the ground, and the vivid green of the ivy reminds me of the new life that spring affords us. Four seasons, one photo. I know, pretty deep.
Did someone say Glühwein?