Dearest reader,
In a perfect world, I, a distant cousin of the hobbit would start each misty September morning in an exeptionally refreshing manner: by taking a walk under shadows of some wise, ancient trees. Dressed in my favorite tweed ensemble with Austen's "Sense and Sensibility" in hand while sipping my morning tea from a pansy painted porcelain cup, the sun would peak through a soon to be orange foliage. And as I turn my cold cheeks to face those first golden rays, I notice, that I too have forgotten a handkerchief like my great great great uncle Bilbo.
It is usually a pitty to forget one's handkerchief for tea will always be spilled in the midts of the delights of chilly, mystical September mornings when there is so much to gaze at. But we must adapt to all unfortunate situations in life, which is why, and as an effect of my many forgetful, absent minded (a common trait in half hobbits) mornings, I have started to wipe my tea stained hands to whatever nature has to offer. Dry leafs, fresh leafs, tree trunks, grass, variety of bushes and moss which particularly has proven to be a splendid absorber of such liquids.
During my morning walks numerous perculiar happenings have crossed my path alongside moss handkerchiefs. Namely, in the near woodland to my left from a tree lined road I usually take, lives an extraordinarily friendly and sound minded squirrel, well, as smart as squirrels come anyway. Sometimes as I walk by its territory our eyes meet in a friendly, neighbourly manner to greet one another in an endevour to exhange thoughts and report on the events of our different lifes. "Indeed, yesterday evening was horribly windy, I had awful trouble collecting my dinner and ended up having nightmares of turning bald", reported the squirrel on one Friday morning with a series of dramatic paw gesture and tail waves. "Oh I do feel for you. Those kind of evenings are the worst, especially, now in preparation for winter. Is the Magpie still digging up all your food storage?", responded I with similar hand gestures I had learned from an old, chocolate stained book inhereted from my hobbit side of the family.
Unfortunately, our exhange falls short on most monings because the squirrel has ever so many engagements across the forest.
Another perculiarity I have encounterned, especially, in the time of mist has to do with trees. Since mist is the only time trees get to bathe they are in a habit of loosening up their bark and leting the mist travel into the folds of their wooden skins. Sometimes this creates a strange phenomenon when the tree is in special need of a bath: thin ribbons of morning mist is sucked up into tree bark in a steady but swift manner. I had been mesmeried by the sight of the trees bathing for many years which, at first, I did not realize was an act of bathing, until I was told by the squirrel who was equally amazed of my lack of knowledge. Naturally, I then happened to note with a newly found realisation that "So, when it rains the trees must be taking a shower!" but to this the squirrel started laughing and said she had never heard anything so silly "Taking a shower! Aren't you a joker this morning".
Apparently, trees are creatures of baths, never showers. But how they prevent the showers is a mystery beyond my understanding.
Outfit Notes:
Tweed suit is made by me and mother from Harris Tweed McLeod hunting tartan | Leather loafers are vintage from my grandmother | Blue jumper is neight year old from Benetton | Bag is vintage from my grandmother | Jewelry is 1970s vintage from Audrey Leighton Vintage | Tea cup is 1990s vintage | Book is Jane Austen's "Sense And Sensibility"
What your perfect September morning is like?
Do you enjoy going on morning walks?
Yours truly,