I love the summer. It's my season. I love the blue skies, the light, the optimism, being able to leave all the doors open and letting the breeze blow through to cool us down. And I hate to feel it slipping through my fingers as the nights draw in and autumn seizes us in its mists and mellow fruitfulness.
And right now there's just a hint of the changes to come blowing about in the wind. Down in the Passeig dels Guíxols, where the old men play pétanque, the leaves on the plane trees are starting to turn brown and drop on the ground.
Yesterday I wandered down to the port with my faithful hound at my heels to make the most of the summer vibe before it's gone for another year. We passed a bank that's covered in Morning Glory. No one tends to it, but it seems to have flourished all summer, and still looks marvellous. I suppose it's technically a weed, but I guess one man's weed can be another man's prize bloom.
I walked past this apartment block, which my husband wishes didn't exist. From the back it is a bit of a blot on the landscape, but it looks out over the port so the people living there must have great views out to sea, and, as is true with every ugly building the world over, if you live in it you don't have to look at it when you're at home. I think it's fun to see so many people all busy doing their summer living on their balconies as you walk past. In the winter it's all closed up and boring.
A tiny sailing school has appeared on the quayside. I'm impressed by its funky paintwork. They're doing brisk business these days as the harbour is full of little sailing boats and people trying to get the hang of how to stand up on a windsurf.
We walked on and had a look at what's parked up in the harbour. There were the usual commercial fishing boats ...
... and the little boats for just pootling around ...
... and sailing boats for chasing the wind.
We walked on to the beach. The place was full of tourists and sun-worshipers, all stretched out on the sand, soaking up the rays, but away from the seafront the back streets of the village were quiet.
Here the people went about their business as normal, cleaning, fixing, repairing and getting ready for winter.
And the signs of the change in the season were all around. Fruit ripening on the vines. Leaves turning colour. Offers in the shop windows for back-to-school discounts. It was all there, and even I couldn't ignore what was happening. Who knows, maybe this time next week when we're back in London and Emi's settled into his new class at school I may even start embracing the autumn and telling everyone who'll listen how it's really my favourite season of the year.
All the best for now,
As shared on Friday Finds