The last of the Summer days

The weather has definitely turned Autumnal by now, with a string of granite grey rainy days leaving puddles and a slippery carpet of soggy leaves in their wake. I can feel the dampness in my bones and have unearthed my snuggliest cardigans. I'm wearing my crazy clog slippers to keep my toes toasty as I sit here typing this post, trying to put off putting the heating on until my fingers have become uncomfortably numb.

For the sake of my blog's continuity, though, I'm casting my mind back to Saturday 19 September.

It was another gorgeously sunny late Summer's day but, following our Antwerp escapade the previous day, it had been a languidly lazy one so far.  I was also having a bit of a Covid-wobble, as one does from time to time. 

By mid-afternoon, a serious case of the jitters finally made us flee the house. Grabbing an afternoon snack to savour while sitting on a bench, our initial thought was to drive down to the water tower in the next village to take some outfit photos. But the site, which is unsheltered by trees, was bathing in glaring sunlight which bleached my painstakingly assembled outfit of much of its colour. On top of that, a wedding party, intent on following our example, arrived on the scene after we'd only taken a photo or two so we left them to it and departed elsewhere.

The place we finally settled for was a tiny park adjoining De Schorre, a recreational domain and nature reserve on the site of a former clay pit. Here, the sunlight was filtered by a leafy canopy, dappling the layer of crispy leaves underneath.

I was wearing my recently charity shopped vintage skirt, giving it a twirl or two, my feet happily kicking the satisfyingly crunchy carpet beneath them.

The bright pink of the flowers falling towards the skirt's hem prompted my choice of top: a short-sleeved pink knit one with a pattern of tiny white squares across the yoke and shoulders, which if I remember correctly came from Think Twice.

Both bracelets were charity shopped over the years, while the beaded necklace was an old flea market find. The rest of my outfit - brooch, belt, bag and shoes - were all retail buys, which have more than earned their places in my wardrobe by now. The shoes in particular have hardly been off my feet during the Summer months.

The sun, as well as my wobble were still very much present on Sunday.  I tried to keep myself busy in a bid to alleviate the blues, so I washed my hair, watered the garden, read a couple of pages in the Jonathan Coe book I'd picked up in a charity shop and did a massive blog catch up.

Our old Fuchsia magellanica shrub is always coming into its own at this time of year, its scarlet and purple flowers vying for attention with the glossy red berries of the even older Cotoneaster.

Helenium 'The Bishop' and Gaillardia 'Wild Fire' (top and bottom right) are still blooming profusely, providing colour to the borders, while Echinacea 'Meditation White' (bottom left) is still lording it over the patio plants residing on the plant table outside our back door.

I needed clothing as therapy that day, and my tropical leaf print King Louie dress, charity shopped for a pittance last Summer, did the job perfectly. The squishy flamingo brooch - a recent find - seemed to feel quite at home among the exotic foliage.

My other accessories picked up the deep red from my dress's print. Both the belt and shoes were charity shop finds, as was the pale blue polka dot bangle, while the red bracelet came from our local Oxfam Fair Trade shop. The transluscent red beaded necklace was a gift from the lovely Gisela.

I am skipping Monday, which was one of my office days, and a busy one to boot. Apparently, it was another perfect Indian Summer day, but I hardly had time to notice the weather. Not having slept very well that night, I was tired and on autopilot for most of the day.

To say I was glad that Tuesday rolled along is quite an understatement.

We had officially entered Autumn and the weather forecast was looking pretty dire for the foreseeable future. As it looked that Tuesday would be the last of the Summer days, we wanted to make the most of it and spend it outside.

Not wanting to stray too far from home, we drove down to Middelheim, the sculpture park which I'm sure needs no further introduction for those of you who have been following my blog for a while.

Being a weekday, we hadn't expected any problems finding a parking space. Much to our surprise, however, it was chock-a-block, probably with the cars of people working in the neighbourhood rather than those visiting the park. This meant that we had to leave our car around the corner and approach the park from a different angle than usual.

There had been quite a foggy start to the day, and by late morning an ethereal layer of mist was still lingering in the clearings, as if caught between the copses of trees, and enhancing the other-worldliness of the dancing sky tubes which make up the artwork called The Pogo Never Stops.

The sunlight filtered by the misty veil spotlighted he colours of this border which was headlined by magenta-flowered Sedum spectabile and bronze-leaved Heuchera.

Feeling like Alice - or more aptly, Alice's daughter - after having stepped through the looking-glass, I crunched through the leaves towards two topsy-turvy houses in the distance, being careful to skirt the lethal looking giant silver maces tied to some of the trees.

Both are works of art, of course, the houses by Berlin artist Timm Ullrichs (Modelhäuser Typ Bomarzo, 2001) and the maces by Belgian artist Berlinde De Bruyckere (Innocence can be Hell, 1993), the latter a recent acquisition by the sculpture park.

With no itinerary in mind but to clear our heads and enjoy the last of the Summer days, we wandered at will, marvelling at the trees changing into their Autumn finery while dodging the acorns which kept plummeting to earth with alarming regularity.

We'd brought a picnic, of course, and were looking for the perfect spot, when Jos's eye was caught by a giant weeping willow, which seemed to have a passageway running underneath its tangle of branches.

Investigation revealed a kind of secret room, the tree's crooked and twisted boughs having wreathed themselves into a vaulted ceiling offering shade, shelter and privacy.

A single silver painted chair was the room's only furniture, but as these chairs can be found all over the park and in fact, a threesome could be spotted on the lawn beyond, this was easily remedied. 

We've made a mental note of this particular spot, as surely there cannot be a more idyllic place to have one's picnic in. 

The outfit I was wearing on this gorgeous Autumn day started with this red Diolen dress patterned with green dots, white circles and green and white flowers. As usual, I accessorized it with green, finding both a beaded necklace and a stretchy fabric belt in the exact shade of green in the dress's print.

I needed a brooch that stood out among the busy print and, and this big vintage poodle brooch just fit the bill perfectly.

When we were finally able to tear ourselves away from this heavenly spot, we continued our walk and crossed into the main part of the park.

Meandering at will, we just followed our eyes and feet, admiring and pondering over various works of art, with Firmament III by British artist Antony Gormley (top left) one of our favourites.

Clockwise from top right you can see Song, by Japanese sculptor Shin Hongo (1967), followed by O Indio e a Suassuaparà by Victor Brecheret (Brazil, 1951) and finally, Yayoi by Corey McCorkle (US, 2005).

Another favourite is Kolom by Belgian artist Felix Roulin (1975), a polished metal column enclosing a human figure - or is it more than one? - trapped inside. Through holes in the column different body parts can be seen. The ever-changing light and the reflections on the smooth polished surface of the column is quite mesmerizing. 

As always, we were lured by the Braem Pavillion, designed by architect Renaat Braem and completed in 1971. 

The pavilion usually hosts an exhibition of some sort, but although we could see what looked like revolving rails of tapestries through its windows, it didn't appear to be open. Not surprisingly, as due to security measures to prevent the spread of Coronavirus, tickets have to be pre-booked. 

I do miss the days one could just wander inside and have a look around ...

Well, that's it for now. I will be back soon but I'm afraid I won't be bringing sunshine.

Until then, stay safe out there, my friends!