I've never been good at knowing about the beginnings and ends of seasons... The year, in my mind and because of all the years spent at school and university, really begins in September, while the first sign of autumn, according to some Russian tales, is the day when the leaves turn yellow... No science sense, in a way, but I like the fantasy.
Yesterday truly felt like autumn to me.... What we thought would be a very relaxing Sunday (and boy, we craved, absolutely, totally, utterly, craved it) became a short, but very real, nightmare. Early morning Oscar was rushed to the emergency vets for an op (the boy does like to live his life to the full (in a good way, mind you), hence, we are here to deal with the consequences. So instead of having a lazy day, we hurried up and down the motorway, angrily slapped in the face by the heavy rain, hurried by accompanied the stormy winds and razor cutting the glass-like road. Nothing mattered, really... Just the little furry boy I held in my arms.
It's all good now, the boy is back to slightly shaky but happy-stubborn self... Now it's just the weather and us feeling as drained as a pair of dehydrated apples from the old Olay commercial. I may need a couple of extra days looking after him rather than the rest of my daily life, so bear with me in case a post or two do not happen on time or are brief and not particularly cheerful.
Photo source: Wylie Hays in Grazia Turkey August 2015 (photography: Cihan Alpgiray, styling: Asligul Arslanalp)