“ Find a part of yourself hidden in the twilight.” – Fennel Hudson, Traditional Angling -Fennel’s Journal – No. 6
With the change back to standard time barely upon us, I woke recently to a darkness in our room that felt like 6 am in the gloom and not the 8:05 am it really was – the weather outside having banished any hint of sunrise, instead, heralding the first storm of the season. As the temperature dropped, the rain fell in a furious curtain, fogging up our windows and depositing the first snowfall up on the mountains. Without a doubt, storm season had officially arrived…
There are more bare trees than clothed ones now, having left a lovely swathe of colour to crunch beneath my feet during a recent lucky streak of dry days, the leaves left behind looking like pale stars caught in the tangle of those naked limbs, the air as I walk beneath them tasting of cold and woodsmoke. The moodiness of September and October have given way to a more festive air, those snowflake saturated mountains making one long for cozy nights and hot chocolate by the cupful. Store windows and shelves that once held rustic orange pumpkins have given way to the scent of pine, shimmering glimpses of scarlet ribbon and the soft glow of amber lights. A reminder that the year is closing fast.
There is much to be thankful for at this time of year despite the storms that come our way – warm mugs of spiced tea, Harry Potter books to get lost in on chilly nights and always, the joy of coming across the unexpected. One late afternoon that turned to dusk in a heartbeat, I found myself walking by a peaceful parklet and there they were, three young men practicing the art of balancing, walking barefoot upon large colourful rubber bands strung between a group of windswept trees. Normally, young men and women can be found down by English Bay performing this delicate dance, not between two older buildings beneath the twilight sky, it was if they threw off the glamour of summer to revel in the velvet air of autumn creating magic with each and every try.
Today finds me hiding from yet another storm, Veranda Cafe and its molten chocolate cradled in a white porcelain cup drawing me inside to scribble a note or two. The large picture window I’m sitting beside looks upon a grove of large ancient-looking trees, nestled among their twisting, almost bare branches are wicker wrapped spheres encasing colourful twinkle lights, they will light up as the holiday season deepens – right now, my ink filled pages are lit up by the many spotlights up above in this industrial space. Festive colour has made an early appearance in the many boxes of Panettone (Italian holiday cake) stacked on the windowsill and shelves making me glad I stepped in from the heavy wind and rain. I’m left with thoughts on the various storms that flow through our lives, they often have questions to ask of us and never seem to stick around to see if we have the courage to answer them, I think they’re missing the best part, don’t you?