The waiting room
Everything about this photo is comforting and aspirational to me in a lazy, Kinfolk, autumnal kind of way. I recently made it my desktop wallpaper so now I spend a lot of time dreaming of a November day when I can sit at a big wooden table in a real kitchen, enjoying a cup of joe and a light snack with my dog. In between drinks and snacks we'll drive around looking at leaves for hours and parallel park anywhere we want, just because we can. Jesus Christ won't that be something.
It's been cool here at the end of August, free of humidity and in the mid-70s for a long, blessed string of days. It felt like autumn coming early, and don't think I didn't notice or wasn't grateful. As I've stated many times before, summer is the price we pay for fall. That in and of itself makes it worthwhile, if egregiously goddamn costly.
Here's Robinson Meyer at Medium on waiting for the seasons:
When I first learned of meteorological spring, I found it disappointing. I want to wait past March 1. Of course it is a little springy now, I felt, but I wanted the glory in waiting for a later holiday. The word patience, which is what I wanted to practice, and what I am performing the practice of now, descends from Latin’s patior, pati — to suffer, to endure, to submit. It is to admit your existence as being under the thumb of times. For me, that’s what living on a planet with seasons feels like.
IMPORTANT FOOTNOTE: I performed a reverse image search for the provenance of this photo from my point of origin (actual Cup of Jo) but came up empty. Admittedly, five seconds of effort is where my interest in this enterprise came to a close, but I'm only one impatient person. I can't solve all the world's problems.