Week 4: Memories of Home

As I was walking home after a class this week, I had to stop for a moment and look at the light that was hitting this building. I started feeling homesick but not in a sad way, if that makes sense, I was reminded of happy memories. There is something about the way the light was hitting this building that reminded me of Montreal in the fall. September, to be specific. The color of the light is vivid, yet soft. The yellows are still yellow but they’re leaning slightly towards orange. There is an angularity to the light in the fall that I don’t notice any other time of year and I think what strikes me the most about it is that tough it is angular, it is not harsh. 

It’s a time of year I really enjoy; the leaves start to turn many different colors — so much so that driving along a highway feels like being in an impressionistic painting — the weather is still warm but there is a nice briskness to the air so sweaters and small jackets start coming out (to me, that is the most comfortable weather); drinking hot cider becomes an afternoon ritual; families, friends, and school groups all go apple-picking at a farm outside the city — there are so many that you can pick the one you prefer, and the kind of apple you’d like to pick. Some go pumpkin and squash picking. If I think about it further, I might even say that because I moved to Canada in the fall, the time of year subconsciously conjures excitement and happiness for me.