Dearest Helvetia,
I am sitting here today, in the park, eating maple sugar candy and mulling. The sun is shining brightly down on me today, with a kindness that says summer is over and soon we shall have to say goodbye for the long winter. But for today the breeze is gentle and welcome, the grassy moss beneath this tree is soft, and the children on the playground are noisy.
There are fairy mushrooms behind me, of that peculiar orangey-brown tint that only mushrooms get, and a tiny plant to my left that has bitty violet blooms.
The alarmingly large caterpillar (alarming because I first spotted it crawling up my leg) has crept off somewhere and I cannot see a bit of it's white and black fuzz. The wind is having quite a time in the trees, so I am trying to soak in as much leaf-talk as I can before they fall and the sky is just icy blue between dark branches.
The maple candies are a lovely golden color in the sun, but as for the shapes...I cannot for the life of me decide what they are supposed to be. The one next to me looks rather like a fancy pudding, back when jello molds were all the rage. There is another that might be an almond, or some kind of melon. But I shall pretend it is a dirigible, instead. And the third will be...the guild symbol of some steampunk union. 'Brass Welders United', perhaps.
But the pudding still looks like a pudding.
This town is quite pretty, to be sure. Built on the hills and into the valley, it is full of trees and sudden, surprising views of the sky, and has a teeny tiny main street with old brick buildings and a clock tower. At night, when the street lights are lit, it looks tiny and perfect; like a miniature or a movie set. I will take pictures for you. I feel rather like the only thing this town needs is the ocean, and it would be perfect.
Yours,
Nicolaus
