Sunday, 21 October 2012
Sunday morning musings . . .
I was thinking this morning, remembering again that lovely trip to London we had at the end of September . . . it hardly seems possible it was almost a month ago . . . and yet . . . it was.
There was one thing that I noticed about London that was remarkably different than the place where I reside. It seemed to get dark earlier . . . and twilight lasted longer. I don't know if it was because the buildings are appreciably taller or what . . . but I did notice it.
Lovely is the London dusk when autumn twilight falls . . . a gauzy mist cloaks it's blitzed and blackened walls, while golden buds of light unfold along the it's crowded ways and bi-ways, the grey river flowing like silver in the pearly haze.
Tattered leaves blow down streets and gather round the squares, whilst the beauty of the season veils the hard and haggard face of brick and stone. Light softly fades . . . and yet the city never sleeps. It comes alive in the night . . . even more so than in the day, but with a completely different feel to it.
There was a certain air of business about the day . . . which at night was replaced by a feeling of celebration. I know no other way to describe it. One evening as we walked after supper . . . down a busy street in Kensington . . . the shadows lengthened before us on the pavement . . . and the air was filled with the special glow that twilight brings.
I became completely caught up in the magic of a London evening . . . and thought to myself . . . I could live here. It was barely six o'clock and yet it seemed to be much, much later in the day. The joy I felt was probably more about being there with Todd . . . than anything else, and I can do that and feel that anywhere . . . just so long as his heart beats alongside of mine.
"Every person's life is a fairytale written by God's fingers."
~Hans Christian Anderson
Here in the country . . . things are slightly different.
There is a certain sameness about summer trees, when the forms of bole and bough are covered in heavy green foliage, but let autumn descend, and the leaves begin to fall . . . and we begin to see the individuality of each tree, within the glorious blaze of their quickening colors. Everything changes.
A magnificent autumn dress is worn by the sumac, liquid-amber, maple and cherry . . . with the beautiful parrotia persica out-glowing all . . . it's gown a burning dome of gold and crimson leaves. In the wood the oaks are still green above the brown bracken, whilst silver birches toss their yellow leaves into the wind . . . as slim and graceful as dancers amidst the solid mass of fruited thorn . . .
A line of beech trees along a country lane . .. with limbs of black and crowns of gold are almost enough to take one's breath away. Walking down the lane, the light of a late October day warms our heads as it draws the fire out of the bronze and coppery leaves that burn above us . . . and smoulder at our feet. Tis an amazingly and utterly beautiful thing to experience.
It makes one very, very glad to be alive . . .
A happy thought to carry with you throughout this sabbath day . . .
"When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown . . . faith is knowing one of two things. There will either be something solid on which to stand . . . or you will be taught how to fly."
Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . an amazing Blackberry & Apple Charlotte.
Enjoy your day and all that it gifts you with!