Friday open thread: paint me a picture
Oct. 31st, 2025 11:00 pmIt’s time for another (only my second, I believe) Friday open thread, inspired by
dolorosa_12, who I've long admired for keeping these going weekly - mine are going to continue to be irregular! This one is inspired by those moments when you don’t have a camera at hand to take a photo - or maybe, like me, you decided to enjoy the moment as it was without thinking about camera angles or framing or later posting.
This is your invitation to describe a moment where you stopped to take it in without a camera.
I’ll go first:
Earlier this week I was running late to work due to multiple train cancellations and delays, so I walked a more direct route from the train station to the office - right past the outer moat of the citadel. It was a rare sunny morning with little wind, biting cold, the leaves on the footpath already churned into brown mud. Out on the water, a short distance up ahead, visible through the still-green branches of a large willow tree, was a pair of swans. Suddenly, one swan took umbrage with the other and hared off, wings angrily fluttering, until it settled down somewhere in the distance.
I passed the tree, and there, the moat abruptly turned inwards back to the centre of the star, flanked on both sides by trees dressed in yellow and orange. I slowed down. On the water was the swan left behind, slowly floating towards its mate, the dark ripples in the water gently breaking up the fiery reflections of the trees. As I watched, now stock still while other people rushed past me on the footpath, a gust of wind shook the largest of the trees, and a rain of yellow beech leaves fluttered down and formed golden little boats in the water around the swan.
This is your invitation to describe a moment where you stopped to take it in without a camera.
I’ll go first:
Earlier this week I was running late to work due to multiple train cancellations and delays, so I walked a more direct route from the train station to the office - right past the outer moat of the citadel. It was a rare sunny morning with little wind, biting cold, the leaves on the footpath already churned into brown mud. Out on the water, a short distance up ahead, visible through the still-green branches of a large willow tree, was a pair of swans. Suddenly, one swan took umbrage with the other and hared off, wings angrily fluttering, until it settled down somewhere in the distance.
I passed the tree, and there, the moat abruptly turned inwards back to the centre of the star, flanked on both sides by trees dressed in yellow and orange. I slowed down. On the water was the swan left behind, slowly floating towards its mate, the dark ripples in the water gently breaking up the fiery reflections of the trees. As I watched, now stock still while other people rushed past me on the footpath, a gust of wind shook the largest of the trees, and a rain of yellow beech leaves fluttered down and formed golden little boats in the water around the swan.