a love story . . .

This little face tells a story . . . a love story . . . love for late autumn, early winter, rain, colour, running around outside, getting wet, warming up in front of the fire, filling herself with hot food, just enjoying the change of the season . . .

Her love finds an echo in our hearts . . .

At this moment it's raining . . . no it's pouring . . .

I took the following photo a hour ago through the window, after remembering two poems by N P van Wyk Louw. The first excerpt comes from "Vroegherfs" (Early Autumn) and the second from "Winter" (Winter) (free translation in English reads alongside in brackets) :
Die jaar word ryp in goue akkerblare (the year ripens through golden oak leaves)

in wingerd wat verbruin . . . (in the browning vinyards . . . )

Nou lê die aarde nagtelang en week (All night long the earth lies saturated)

in die donker stil genade van die reën, (drinking in the quiet, graceful rain,)

en skemer huise en takke daeliks bleek (daily twilight-homes and branches peek)

deur die wit mistigheid en suising heen. (through white wisps of mist and wispers of wind.)