Hello October

After critically over thinking what should be the first blog post for this long due website, now collecting dust since May this year and obsessing over how it needs to be about finally completing a task I was assigned in 2016 by a dear friend.


I slyly chose to drift away from thinking.
 And went for a walk instead.
 Which led to many walks thereafter.



So I could celebrate autumn and returning home. 
For reasons only seasons would know, I always land in France during autumn. 
The tiny window of colour before the winter drapes us white. 
Trees sending yellow, orange, red love letters. Birdsongs and fire crackle.



Calling the mountains home, has been a beautiful feeling. Very nourishing.

Even though I wasn’t born in the region. 
I have been living close to the hills and mountains since a decade. 
It could be a mountain anywhere on earth, and I could still call it home. Isn’t that wonderful!
 So in my head I am basically skipping mountains, no matter where I go.
 The pace of life here is a warm embrace.



The smell of cinder and pine fills the air, there is resin on your hands often. It’s common for people to wave at each other and smile. You can hear the wind whispering and the wind chime half a kilometre away. Catch the seasons breathing and turning. Windows tell stories while the changing light plays hide and seek. Just about living the day requires you to do certain chores which makes the day a somewhat win (:

And also the weekly vegetable vendor is so happy to see you after months that he packs you a bag of cashews and chestnuts when you appear in the queue.




And when you crave more, beauty is just a walk away. It’s easier for me to be lost in the leaves, blades of grass, twigs and moss and all that they cover. I can be stupid again. Scribbling on the forest floor, searching for words and worlds that tickle.



Perhaps being close to the seasons affects the seasons within too.
 Autumn guards that sentiment well I believe. I draw within as the sun cuts its hours in the sky. 
And start to curl up like the leaves.



And curling up is best done next to a fireplace. So we went collecting pine cones scattered all over with a friend to feed Mister Calcifer. And it’s perhaps these chores that turn the days into stories. Comparing the pine cones and their age is an inviting conversation. It’s not useless if you enjoy it.

Another day we went collecting fossilised stones up on a stream and found some rare gems and broken patterns. Millions of years resting in our fists.

And the next day, foraging wild mushrooms. Chantrelles, girolles, trompette de la mort amongst the other wondrous ones.
Walking around in nature has many prizes evidently. 
Including putting away tasks that need to be done.



Foraging and drying mushrooms amidst the fallen leaves, tells me that the mountain will only wake up in April now. I was enormously shocked at how they devour the forest floor. Every inch of the terrain perhaps. Like a nervous system under our feet. It really is another world beyond the usual. Such alien forms. Of course fantasy and folklore surround them. So I started to collect a few. Some for scrumptious village cooking and others as specimens for drawing. Noémie got us a book to inform us about what not to touch, as my curiosities can be misguided and unfiltered at times. 



As a fun little exercise, I decided to draw at least one mushroom a day for the month of October.

Hence came along this first post. And I’d thank walking without purpose for it.
 It’s been 15 days so far, and I believe I could stick to it for a month. Purely for playing and exploring and maybe learning a bit about this magnificent world. 


Funnily realising there are worlds that don’t need our validation, I’ll retire to mine for now.

<3


Also the popular notion around Chantrelles is that they taste better when dried.

Have your tried?