Hello October . . .

With crimson vine crawling along the brickwork and faded roses laying against the wall, one is tempted to say this is the most beautiful month of all . . . with its time of fruit and falling leaf, and smoke filled pearly haze . . . 

 

I love the blue-grey twilights of October, which come ever quicker now.  I sit at the table by the back window and gaze out  at the first stars which prick the dusk filled skies, as the darkness drops its curtain down upon us . . . 

  

With curtains drawn and lamps lit, I pull my shawl closer about my shoulders and sigh . . .  Todd hates these nights that are drawing in and shortening our days, but . . .  I confess I love them.  There is a certain joy to be felt in low light and cosy rooms . . . 

 

A home filled with the smell of woodsmoke and the crackle of logs  . . . the soft golden glow of lamplight reflected in the gleam of oak and polished copper.  Tis the twilight of the year, a time of tranquility of spirit . . .  of pondering and thanksgiving  . . . 

 

Roses fade away and dahlias droop, the garden fills with leaves that blow here and there . . .  there seems desolation and ruin surround us, but amidst the gloom, there is the the brilliant bloom of crysanthemum, nature's great consolation to summer's grieving heart . . . .  

 

Their vivid blooms set garden paths ablaze  . . . and light chilly rooms with their bold colours . . .  copper, bronze, amber, lemon  . . . . gold, maroon and white.  Brilliant, rich and so very bright . . . each time of year, each season has its tune and glow . . . 

 

Its own harmony to sooth the soul and delight the senses . . .  

In the churchyard, flames, the Burning Bush,
a maple touched to fire, by autumn fanned.
Were I possessed as Moses was, the hush
might speak, Jehovah's voice resound.I stand
uncertain, questions wrinkling my face:
Should I kneel, is this some holy ground?
Or is it just the usual for this place
that maples turn, a season come around?

~Betty M Sellers, October Fire

 

We sat here in the quiet last evening, my needle flashing between the threads of what I am calling now my autumn blanket   . . .  listening to the first session of our General conference and being spiritually fed and uplifted.  The rain was beating against the windows with the wind, but we were all safe in our cosy little home and all felt very right with our little world.  It was a good evening and I am really looking forward to more spiritual nourishment today . . . 

I really like the way my blanket is turning out.  I think the colours are just perfect and they actually look quite autumnal to me with the gold and orange and fading tan, deep green, the petrol blue and clerics grey.  It feels really nice in my hands and kept me quite warm last evening as I plyed my needle in and out.  I predict many cosy hours will be spent beneath it!

A thought to carry with you through today  . . . 

.° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *.˛.°Even if something is left undone,

everyone must take time to sit still

and watch the leaves turn  . . . 

~Elizabeth Lawrence .° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 

Spiritual Enlightenment

  

 In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Windfall Crumble Cake.  Delicious!

Have a beautiful Sabbath day.  Don't forget along the way . . . 

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And I do too!