Golden Hour

September, the sunset of the year, is making a note of spreading its golden hour upon the fields and violet hills like a generous dollop of butter on a toasted slice of bread. Back home in Resen we spent the entire Saturday picking and sorting a good harvest of grapes. It wasn't without accidents and the fatigue caught up with me pretty soon, weak as I was. Taking a break every now and then has become an imperative, regardless of chore and assignment, and even then recovery takes ever so long. Nevertheless, the gentle breeze, the amber sun, the cerulean skies, and the presence of jolly, humorous company, and evergreen ABBA tunes blasting from my phone made the whole ordeal fun and enjoyable. Despite my mother's suspicions that there would be work left to do on the next day, we managed to finish everything in about 7 hours and sweet was the shower taken afterwards, followed by bowls of hearty vegetable soup. Later, up in my sister's toasty attic room, we watched "The Cat Returns", a film by Studio Ghibli, which made us squeak with laughter and glee. And then before we knew it, it was time to head back to Sofia.

I took a shared ride with two other gentlemen and spent it blissfully daydreaming, gazing at the view. A summer child by birth and heart, it's always pained me to say goodbye to its splendor of colours and shapes, tastes and smells. Autumn makes me deeply sad and the cold brings out something ruthless and feral in me. This year, however, is determined to change my mind - she blazes as she goes and is, quite frankly, showing off. Ever so kindly and slowly, she's taking her time painting the tree foliage with warm, glowing watercolours. The sky is thinly veiled like a bride and both birds and faraway airplanes decorate the white ripples of the clouds. The sunflower fields now present rows upon rows of dry, scorched soldiers of the sun, heads forever bowed eastward in devotion, and the corn whispers its farewell to the passersby. Golden September, you just might be a lover I could take.