Fall has been whispering its arrival at Lescure for weeks now. Steam fog rises out of the valley in the early mornings to dissolve into days of blue skies and gold light. All seasons have their beauty when you’re surrounded by nature, but when it comes to colour, gilded autumn is my absolute favourite. As temperatures slowly drop and the amount of sunlight wanes, the leaves seem to be changing their hues daily. Bathed in long slanted light the trees just dazzle, the maples especially.
About a month ago, a team of roofers cut branches of the maple tree that towers over the château’s terrace without consulting us. Thomas dealt with the roofing company (trimming the tree wasn’t the only arbitrary decision they had made), which did wonders for our anger and irritation. My anguish about the tree’s wellbeing took a bit longer to subside and I visited it daily to bring it some comfort. Even with nobody watching, talking to the tree felt a bit far-out hippie, so I just sort of awkwardly patted it on its trunk. In any case, the cutting wounds seem to be healing naturally. I’ve been basking in the maple’s golden glow, feeling both my worries about the tree and the melancholy about the approaching winter fade away in autumnal splendour.