Friday, 31 August 2012
Time to gather in . . .
Tis the last day of August . . . summer is beginning to wane. How did that happen? We did not notice the days passing . . . and now they are spent. April's promise has come true, against skies of blue, thickly fruited boughs are spread with russet, greens, reds and golds . . . and orchard air hums with the sound of fruit pickers, their laughter and song carrying out across field and furrow . . .
Tis the quite time for the birds. Down in the wood where shadows lie darkly under the heavy foliage of late summer . . . the hedgerows lay silent. Where now is the whitethroat . . . the blackcap . . . the warbler??
The lark, too . . . holds his peace. The skies seem lonely without his song.
Old plum trees hang with fruit . . . cracked plums alive with the hum and buzz of greedy wasps as they cluster thickly over their surface, drinking in all that they can hold . . . nectar sweet.
Apples turn ruby cheeked faces to the sun, whilst pears hang down . . . ripe and juicy on over-burdened branches.
The fields are ready, corn waits patiently for the threshers to come, cut and stacked it lays . . . soon to be not much more than stubble waiting for the heavy cut of the plough.
Upon the commons, moors and heath, carpets of heather . . . now pink and plum . . . mauve and lavender . . . white . . . spread out in vistas of untold beauty, beneath the gilded sky.
The light is somehow different now . . . whilst in the garden roses bud for the second time, their blooms the last hurrah of summer, as petals wilt and wither beneath the waning sun, leaving behind scarlet globes . . . hips, ripe and flushed . . . ready for prodding and greedy beaks. All too soon, the feasting will be done.
Purple jewels hang upon thorny branches . . . ripe for the picking . . . waiting to be made into cobblers and pies . . . jams and jellies.
Tis that time of year . . . the hour of maturity . . . the season of fruit and fulfillment, of gathering and garnering . . .
Just around the corner now . . . beds are calling, singing plaintive wistful sounds, beckoning . . . tis almost time for the long cold sleep. Time to gather in . . . time to gather in . . .
I think autumn is one of my favourite seasons of the year. I love the smells, the sounds . . . that crisp feeling in the air, the sight of turning leaves.
I love being able to cook heartier fare . . . soups, stews, casseroles . . . apple pies . . .
Day three of the reno . . . doesn't look much different than day two, but lots has been done. More plastering . . . sanding of floors, some wiring. Floor boards lay beneath where the actual shower bit is going. Today, apparently, all will be made ready for the drain. A hole drilled through the wall, etc.
I got my lesson done yesterday. I thought where it was the first Sunday of the month, which is the Sunday we give over to fasting and testimony . . . and we have a few new members, perhaps a lesson on Testimony would not be amiss, and so that is what I am teaching. All is ready to go . . .
A quote for the day ahead . . .
“I believe we have all been created for greater things than we can comprehend. The times call for great things, but great things in the noblest and most redemptive sense are predicted upon tolerance, love, respect, understanding, dignity, prayer, God.”
~Jeffrey R Holland, Created For Greater Things
Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Crunchy Baked Cod with a HorseradishTartar Sauce!!
Wherever you go today, whatever you do, I hope that you enjoy this last day of August 2012.