I didn't know about the butterfly - did you?
I chose this word because it seems to aptly bridge the gap between this end-of-summer but not-quite-autumn time of year, and can comfortably apply to any season. I like a word that's flexible in its connotations. And today is the start of September after all.
Alpine. Alpine. Alpine.
Already the resinous scent of coniferous trees perfume the air of my imagination, and I could just as well be walking barefoot over a carpet of soft woodland tundra, as slaloming through the alpine ski resort of any popular European destination.
The idea of snow-laced alpine mountains is so evocative, so perfect it almost hurts; untainted by human touch and unconcerned by the frustrations of everyday. The same could be said of a seasonal spring/autumn retreat I suppose. Until we look closer.
Yes. The ubiquitous mountain lodge hidden in a tangle of sun-sparkled trees, near a lake in a far-away place. It looks perfect from the outside.