perfect day

there are days that are the embodiments of a season. the clear, crisp winter mornings when the sun reflecting from the pure white snow makes your eyes water and the coldness of the air paints the borders of your exhales in the air; or the hot, lazy summer afternoons when time drags on and the world feels so gentle, so kind and what ever worries you may have can wait until tomorrow. there are the cautious, almost frail first days of spring when the sun starts to feel warm again and you can smell the ground as the disappearing snow looses the battle of covering it, the days when you know that you have survived yet another winter and that the upcoming summer has every chance of making up for the dark days of winter that are now starting to be behind you.

and then there are days like this, the perfect autumn days when the air is fresh and the wind is strong, but the sun still has some strength left to warm your face when you run towards it; when the ground is wet from the rain that poured on it the night before and the tattered clouds are chased across the dazzling blue sky by an invisible force. on days like this you know that the winter is coming, that it is already lurking in the evenings that grow dark earlier and earlier, you can sense it hiding in the sharpness of the wind; but you also know that without the approaching winter you could not experience these magnificent autumn days. and because of that -- even if just for a moment -- as you run through the nature that is already preparing to hibernate and get to experience its last beautiful breaths, you are grateful for the winter as well.