The light leaches so fast at this time of year. At four o'clock, what was a promising, blue-sky day is suddenly swallowed by evening. My washing, still on the line, turns from stiff to damp and cold again and I curse my forgetfulness as I pile it reluctantly into the drier.
This morning, there seemed to be all the time in the world. And suddenly, it is the tail end of everything and still so much left undone.
Even the smell of the banana bread in the oven is failing to raise my spirits. It's the indoors I am not quite ready to succumb to. To closed windows and doors that cannot be flung open. I try to appreciate the cosy, the domestic. But in reality, I feel like a caged beast and home seems stifling. I try to nest, but instead find myself frustrated by the futility of keeping order against the tide of muddy footwear and wet clothes and socks and coats abandoned willy-nilly.
Irritable and restless. The emotions of the tail end of Autumn. I know why bears hibernate.