Summer is over and winter is not far behind. The cold has imposed its presence even more brusquely in the last two days. One Friday, I scarce remember if it was this last one or the one before that (even small talk about the weather should be blogged, perhaps?), mercury readings took a perceptible dive - especially early in the morning and late in the evening. From mid-August, the days have grown shorter - the first unmistakeable sign of the coming end of a glorious season. The streets are no longer empty and traffic is snarled again, with everyone back from vacation. On Tuesday night, it rained heavily; the downpour continued sporadically yesterday although the sky seems quiescent, if brooding, this morning. Definitely the holidays are over. Today is the first day of la rentrée, the return to school.
Surprisingly, the thought that winter is coming weighs on me. I'm not really one to be affected by climate, least of all the cold that I favor over the heat. I've always loved autumn. Winter, with its sunlessness and snowdrifts, has not really troubled me; in fact I've thrived in the more severe Russian version of the season since my arrival, learning cross-country skiing in my first winter here and snowboarding in the second. Plus, wintry nights have always fascinated me, and snow has been nothing short of miraculous on every occasion I've encountered it.
Monday: Viewing of The Spy Who Shagged Me
Tuesday: Olya Oleshchenko arrives in Moscow on a business trip; her friend's name is Inessa. Rhythm and Blues Café with Vika and Ai, downpour
Wednesday: Singapore po-russki, Ichiban boshi
Surprisingly, the thought that winter is coming weighs on me. I'm not really one to be affected by climate, least of all the cold that I favor over the heat. I've always loved autumn. Winter, with its sunlessness and snowdrifts, has not really troubled me; in fact I've thrived in the more severe Russian version of the season since my arrival, learning cross-country skiing in my first winter here and snowboarding in the second. Plus, wintry nights have always fascinated me, and snow has been nothing short of miraculous on every occasion I've encountered it.
Monday: Viewing of The Spy Who Shagged Me
Tuesday: Olya Oleshchenko arrives in Moscow on a business trip; her friend's name is Inessa. Rhythm and Blues Café with Vika and Ai, downpour
Wednesday: Singapore po-russki, Ichiban boshi
