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Showing posts from September, 2015

You Can't Beat Experiencing Life At First Hand

Dear Friends
Firstly, thank you to everyone who left comments on my last post - unfortunately I was unable to answer them due to the fact that the Wi-Fi signal was terrible at the place where we were staying.  I have been incommunicado for a whole week - unable to read and comment on your posts.  But I'm back now - normal service will be resumed - and I have to say I have missed you all.
Experiencing real life is a good feeling.  Like being out in the elements - sun, wind, rain on your skin.  Watching a sporting event - the N.Norfolk Triathlon - with all the crowds; excitement; the excellence, energy and stamina of the athletes - how can you get the same atmosphere whilst watching a square box in the corner of your living room - it's just not the same.
Walking through a wood with beams of sunlight dappling the woodland floor; finding all sorts of fungi in unexpected places. Or watching the antics of sea birds, hawks and ducks doing what comes naturally - soaring, swooping, fe…

From The Wild Garden of the Waning Year

I had written the word Cornucopia in my notebook but couldn't remember why.  Then it struck me that this time of year the hedgerows are a veritable Cornucopia of wonderful things to gather.  Berries and fruits shine out like beacons waiting to be plucked from their often thorny stems.  Scarlet hips, crimson haws, indigo sloes  with a pale bloom on their skins.  Glistening purple elderberries drooping under the weight of the fruit.  Burnt orange rowan berries hanging in clusters.  Acid green crab apples like perfect miniatures.  Knobbly horse chestnuts.  Spiky sweet chestnuts.  Food for free that Mother Nature provides from her wild garden.

It has been a pretty chaotic week and I have had very little time for visiting blogs or even thinking about my own post - so I will just let the pictures do the talking.

The last berries, apples and plums, wet and almost rotting from the late sun and autumn rain, lend a mellow, alcoholic scent to the space, like the dregs of an abandoned glass o…

Late Summer Reverie

I wandered to the top of the garden to my favourite spot; the bench that sits beneath the greengage tree, amongst the vegetable beds. In front of me is the arch, dripping with runner beans, behind that my huge apple tree bursting with crimson fruit.

I listen and hear a Woodpecker calling, and the lowing of a cow in the distance, calling for her calf; watch a bee settle on a nearby flower;  see a dragonfly and hear the whirring of its wings. The leaves on the nearby Sycamore tree are swishing in the wind, a background noise that is so constant, here on our hill, that it is hardly noticed.  The crows gather there and keep up a noisy dialogue for most of the day. The sun goes behind the clouds and the wind picks up and feels a little chill.  Then the clouds break and the sun beams through again - how changeable it is at this time of year.

Rain clouds are gathering; now the bean leaves are rattling together in protest.  I turn my head  and see the cows grazing in the back field, just get…

Now is theTime of Slow, Mist-Hindered Dawns

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer. ~ Helen Hunt Jackson Autumn is knocking at the door.  The last roses of the year are bravely blooming.  But most flowers are fading fast.  Swallows are gathering on the wires ready for their long journey south - a sure sign that summer is almost over.
We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of Summer's wreckage.  We will welcome Summer's ghost. ~ Henry Rollins In the early morning, dew settles on the grass, the distant fields are shrouded in mist and the evenings are chilly - log fires have been lit.  Everything seems to slow down at this time of year, and although we haven't had the best of summers, I sit here wishing that I had made more of it now that it is nearly over.  I will miss sitting at the garden table reading in the afternoon sun; watching the birds and bees going about their business.
'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blo…