September has come and gone. Tourists have finally packed their bags and returned home. We, locals, finally feel like we have our town and our space back. But even though it smells and feels a lot like autumn, the colours aren’t quite ready to change yet. In spite of all the years I lived here, by the sea, in spite of knowing better, I still crave autumnal shades every September.
Much like the people here, nature is also reluctant to let go of those mysterious hopes and promises of summertime fun by the sea, so leaves change colour later than in other parts of the country.
“Stop that, you’ll ruin your shoes!”
My grandmother repeatedly chastised me every autumn, but I couldn’t care less. All it did was teach me to save that sort of behaviour for when she wasn’t around to notice it and get angry. Even now, when I care about my shoes perhaps more than I should, I still drag my feet through fallen leaves, the way I did as a child.
Well, here we are again… and I can’t say I’m surprised.
No, I’m not talking about finally returning to the lovely Lens Artists community and our inspiring hosts (I’m more than fashionably late for Ann-Christine’s challenge, Found in the Neighbourhood, and I haven’t participated in a few months, but these ladies have been very understanding in the past, so I hope they won’t mind this time either).
Sadly, I’m referring to my town going back in a sort of lockdown and to the fact that the only surprising aspect about it is that our authorities are finally doing (or creating the appearance of doing) something to control the situation. Right… deep breath… I did promise myself not to get political about the whole mess… and truth is, they’re not the only culprits. On top of a tourist filled summer, too many of us, locals, have systematically disregarded common sense safety measures and have refused to believe the threat is real.