As sands through the hourglass . . .

The beauty of the English countryside at all times of the year has something to do with the gentle way in which the cycle of the seasons turns . . . .



You cannot precisely put a finger upon the exact point of transition, nor can you isolate the moment in which it all changes.   It creeps up with stealth and steals  upon you slowly . . .



So slowly, and  so very unobtrusively as to be almost imperceptable.  There is no sudden and dramatic change of scene . . .



Instead the tops of the trees quite slowly and silently shift from greens into golds and ambers . . .  like a sponge absorbing coloured water as the change slowly seeps and creeps until it is quite simple sodden with it . . .



and you find yourself wondering . . . how did that happen?  Why did I not see it coming?  Why was I not prepared?  I am never prepared . . .



As the daisies of Michaelmas give way to giant-headed sunflowers, misty mornings and dew filled nights . . .  the mauve flush of the heather and the red of the creeper cover the hillsides and byways . . . and tell of the waning of summer's delight . . .



the season of fruitfulness . . .  golden . . .  prelude to autumn . . .  the opening phase of woodlands cloaked in a garment of glory . . . the hedgerows will have their harvest tide . . . once again with nuts and fruits in rich abundance on tangle sprays swelling in the golden sunlight of mellow days . . .



and cooler nights   Brambles thickly matted with their red and purple load.  Scarlet hips like fairy lamps strung between the branches . . . with mauve and red and rosy globes on leafless branches borne . . . with berries on spindle bushes and haws fixed between thorns . . .



Even though to live in England means many days of grey skies and unpredictable weather . . .  I am grateful for a country where the grass is greenest . . .  and even in periods of transition . . .



 there is a peculiar beauty as . . . ever so gently a beneficent Mother Nature leads us from one thing into another . . . so as to take one's breath away . . .

My thoughts this morning on these last few days of summer  . . .

  

Cooking in The English Kitchen this day  . . .  most delicious Amaretti Stuffed Peaches.   Quite simply wonderful . . . truly.

 ═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════ ⊰✿░L░O░V░E⊰✿⊰✿⊰✿⊰✿⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿
═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════

May your Sabbath day be filled with abundance of things that count and colour and love.