Sunday . . . Sunday . . .

 

"Thou crownest the year with thy goodness . . .  and the little hills rejoice on every side.  The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys are also covered over with corn; they shout for joy."
~Psalm 65

I read those words this morning as I was reading my scriptures and I thought to myself . . . this is how I feel about the month of August.  There is so much to love about this month and I begin to appreciate it all the more as it draws to a close . . .  a few more days and it will be gone forever . . .

The apple tree at the end of our garden has boughs grown heavy now with ripening apples . . . an abundance of fruit begins to flush with red as they grow ever larger with each day that passes.



Apple trees, well . . . any fruit tree really . . . seem miraculous to me.   In winter they appear all but dead, sheathed in frost.  Then slowly a flush of green appears, tiny and tender buds, which deepen as each day passes and then . . . a burst of rosy tinted buds appear.  Their delicate beauty holding all the promise of a heavy bough at harvest time.

It is a wonder to me . . .

When we lived down South this was the time of year that the orchards sprouted big wooden crates to hold their bounty, as if by magic.    I never saw them arrive.   They just appeared.  I knew then that the solitude and quietness of the previous weeks would soon be replaced with the laughter and chatter of the fruit pickers as they went about their work to fill those wooden crates.



Change was in the air.

"Aprils promise has come true,
Now against a sky of blue,
Thickly fruited boughs are spread,
Green and russet, gold and red."
~unknown

I've begun to notice the nights are really beginning to draw in now.   It's starting to grow dark about 8 o'clock now and the mornings are not so bright when I get up.   Days are getting shorter again.  It's quite cool and gloomy out there this morning, and hard to tell what the day will bring to us.  I forgot to check the weather yesterday . . . but if I was a betting man I would say rain.

Oh well . . . it had to come sooner or later didn't it?



I was talking to my sister yesterday and she said she had made "Perfection Salad" to have with their supper last night.  (She is a good cooker too!)  It brought back a flood of memories.  It's been a long time since I have tasted "Perfection Salad."   To those of you who are not familiar with it, it is a jellied salad filled with chopped cabbage, celery, peppers, pimento, etc.  I remember as a child spending the weekend with one of my mother's friends and her friend making "Perfection Salad."  I would have loved to be sitting at my mother's table last evening . . . food memories of a family being shared.  How very wonderful.   I can't wait to speak to them later on today and ask them how it was.

A thought to carry with you through today . . .

"Poetry is the silence and speech
between a wet struggling root of a flower
and a sunlit blossom of that flower."
~Carl Sandburg  




Baking in The English Kitchen today . . . Blueberry Cake with a Brown Sugar Sauce.   Good old fashioned deeeeee-licious!!

I wish for you a beautiful day.