For the Love of Golden Hour
One of the many things I love about our flat is the light. Our windows face north-west, which means that in the afternoons the whole flat is bathed in soft, slanting golden beams that illuminate the dust and my imperfect paintwork. From March through early October the light reaches around doorways and paints the corridor gold too. There are few things that make me happier than coming home late afternoon or early evening, opening the front door and walking into a wall of light.
In spring and early summer when the sun sets late enough for its trajectory to clear the tall buildings on the other side of the road I feel nothing but excitement for the long days that lie ahead. In September as summer winds down, the light has the same quality but the feeling is a little different. It’s more melancholy, more tinged with nostalgia because spring and summer are my favourite seasons and I’m sad to see them go. Whilst I enjoy curling up and binge watching all my favourite cartoons and films in winter, and I love the excuse provided by a grey autumn Sunday to spend the whole day in bed reading, in my mind nothing beats golden hour between March and October.