POETICAL
adj. /pō-ĕt′ĭ-kəl/
1. fancifully depicted
2. idealised
Every so often, I feel overwhelmed by the sheer wonder of the world. Not by some extraordinary event, mind you, but perhaps when I am driving in my car, I see the sun and reflect on the miraculous nourishing energy it feeds the earth with, and then I cannot stop grinning.
A lot of people who know me would tell you that I am a nostalgic idealist. And they are one-hundred percent correct. But, I am also a realist, because no person who realised that the amazing fact that we can breath, see, experience, love and even suffer, no person who realised this in the core of their being could tell you that life is generally crap. It is a miracle that we are alive, that any of this exists. Each tiny cell, each atom is a marvel. So why should I not grin like an idiot with happiness over something as trivial as a windy day, an old book, or a ripe pumpkin???
Combine my innate idealism with the everlastingly poetical city of Edinburgh, and you have the recipe for a perfect storm of positive energy.
THE ELEMENTS OF A PERFECT STORM
OF POSITIVE ENERGY
Puffy cumulus clouds reflected in church windows.
Dead autumn leaves on the sidewalk, perfect for crunching underfoot.
The ever-changing weather, always a surprise. I love when it really pours.
A proper cup of tea, at LoveCrumbs, my most favouritest tea-shop in all the world. The small sachets of tea are pierced with a stick, hung on the mismatched china, and served alongside a huge thermos of extra water, to make sure you have enough tea while you finish a chapter in your book. Also, they have cake.
Window boxes brimming with jewel-coloured petunias.
Crowing ravens in the kirkyard.
A bounty of small pink tinged apples on a tree by the road. Of course I waded through the thistles to go pick one; it was very tart, but refreshing!
The turning of the wheel, as the days get more brisk, and the leaves seem to become golden overnight.
A beautifully ripe pumpkin, all gloriously dashed and mottled. Also, pumpkin soup!
Those rare antique bookshops that provide seating, allowing you to sit and peruse the wisdom of the ancients for indeterminate amounts of time.
The smoking chimneys near my university, and the way the smoke seemed to meld with the fogs that hung about.
Sunday walks along the riverbanks.
The view of the roofs from the top floor of the library, at dusk.
