First picnick of the year and making efforts to sketch more!
Dont't take my nephew!
Wind rustles the leaves, still greeen. It comes roaring, tugging at branches, leaves, shoving people on bikes and in cars. I watch from inside - warm and sheltered, yet restless.
I type while the birch tree stands naked. Outside a storm shouts: autumn! Scurry and prepare for winter! I listen.