Wednesday morning ponderings . . .

 One morning I tiptoe out into the garden to pick a handful of sweet peas to grace our dining room table before they flutter off into autumn and  . . . suddenly it is September.   There is a certain smell in the air . . .  a smell which is like no other . . .  of back to school and wild grape . . .  and windfalls.

The garden may still be filled with the green of summer . . .  but the tops of the trees are beginning to turn to golds and browns . . .  and the leaves on our blueberry bushes are turning scarlet . . .  and I feel an urgency to gather in all of the loveliness of the past eight weeks, with it's blazing days and star cooled nights.

Try as we might to hold it back . . . summer is on the wane now.   The roads are edged with the flyaway seed pods of spent flowers, and the corn grows golden in the fields.  It makes me feel a bit sad and a bit nostalgic.   As lovely as the days still are . . .  I know this is the forerunner of the cooling autumn days which lay ahead of us . . .  and the rain which will no doubt accompany them . . .

Oh summer  . . .  oh summer . . .  why do you wait so long to grace us with your presence and then sneak off in a hurry?

  
(source)

I gaze now at the Welsh Hills which are so vivid on a clear day from where we live and they are covered in the pinks and purples of ripe heather . . . a mauve flush which shades and colours them magnificently, and I feel blessed to witness such beauty and I hold it in my heart for the treasure I know that it is . . .

All too soon now the air will be punctuated with the cries of the Canadian geese as they fly across crystal blue September skies in their journey towards warmer climes  . . .  and we will be delighted with the undulating aerial dance of a thousand starlings . . .

The days get shorter . . .  the nights get noticeably longer . . .  and we know we cannot hold it back.  Summer's on the wane . . .  and autumn is on our doorstep.

 Dear . . . 
let us remember this when we are tired and old . . . 
When we sit beside the fire
and the days are drear and cold.
Let us warm our hearts against this golden memory . . . 
keeping it forever bright through all
the years to be . . . 
Say you never will forget these good
and happy hours.
The gay September garden
with the sunshine and the flowers.
Say . . .  you will remember
when the gold has turned to grey.
Let us keep unto the end . . . 
this lovely . . .  lovely . . . day.
~Patience Strong



Cooking in The English Kitchen today  . . .  Salmon Melt Sliders.   Quite simply delicious.

"If we want to keep the blessings of life coming to us, 
We have to learn to be grateful for whatever is given.”
 ~ Harold Klemp

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Have a lovely Wednesday!