The middle
On the roads of Ardeche I wandered. Down country lanes that lead to roads that lead to towns. It was a different place to what it had been in summer. The overgrown green that had blanketed the hills was now dulled to a brown-grey. It might have been Winter but there had not been rain like there used to and the trees looked as though they were holding on to the ground by the tips of their toes. All that was left was their spindly arms and fingers branching out. Where before it seemed they stood together, leaves touching, they now stood apart, each one alone.
The ground was getting harder. It was getting cold and hard and compacted. Soon it would freeze somewhat. Then the dirt would feel no different to a rock, the asphalt of the road would feel softer. I walked and things seemed very far away. Though I could see where I was going better than I could in summer, to see how far it was made it feel further. The town sat there waiting as if to say, you aren’t here yet. You’re still over there. So I walked but it was a lonely walk and I felt exposed. I could see anyone coming for miles thanks to the leaves deserting their posts, which meant that they could see me. Though no one was coming and because the birds were quiet and the green was gone it was just me and the grey sky that hung low and pushed my shoulders down. It made me stoop like you would in a small doorway or room who’s ceiling was too low.
I was met by a dog that was not happy to see me. I dropped to the ground as it snarled at me telling it not to worry. That I was alone and stooped and only passing through. He couldn’t understand all that but I made myself small enough for him to let me pass. I giggled a little once around the corner to get rid of the adrenaline that had been released. Giggled and was comforted by the noise so sang to let it out and to warm the air. To warm the air and give it some life.
I felt lonely, even though he was waiting. It was all too brown and grey and I could see too much. I could see that I had forgotten that things are on a cycle that sees them bloom and fade. The trick was knowing if you could stand the fade long enough to see the bloom again. If you couldn’t then there was your answer. If you couldn’t bear the winter and left before it was over then the summer was never going to be enough, no matter how many you had.