Photo location: Ardennes, France 2015. Photo taken on a old Ricoh 35mm camera I bought off a Uyghur man in Xinjiang, China.
It seems I am not alone (looking at the other posts on this week’s prompt) in finding fall to be the most nostalgic season. It’s a combination of the colors and the brisk weather which conjure a flurry of images and memories to mind.
This year, I was sitting in class here in Taiwan, looking out the window and it struck me. (The classroom is overly air conditioned, so I always wear a sweater and bring a hot cup of coffee.) This is about as close as I would get to first hand fall feels this year. The trees outside aren’t deciduous, so the leaves don’t change from green to gold, red, yellow, and orange like they do back home in Colorado. I found myself daydreaming of these sights and feeling the effects of homesickness hitting hard. The air outside is still hot and humid, and there is no semblance of fall in the air. This year there will be no brisk walks through newly-golden forests, no gloves holding a warm cup of coffee, no childlike behavior of jumping onto piles of leaves, and no build up to seeing the first snow dust the earth.
Reminiscing on photos of last year’s fall spent in France subsided my melancholy. And for this year at least, that will have to suffice.