An Autumn Song . . .

 

On Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown,

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown,

Lest I should be old-fashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.

~Emily Dickenson 

Have I told you before how much I love Autumn?  I'm sure I have, but just in case, let me remind you . . . I ADORE AUTUMN!  The nights . . .  they are a drawing in, the days getting noticeably shorter . . .  there's a bit of a chill in the air and the trees are putting on a slow colourful strip tease to the tune of a brisk and sometimes smoke filled breeze . . . 

  

Its time to break out all of the autumn throws and wraps and you can use them with impunity.  Can there be anything cosier than wrapping yourself up on a chilly autumn evening?  

  

Well possibly the addition of a good book, a warm fire, some cosy slippers and a hot drink would do it  . . .  ahhh . . .  the bliss of autumn evenings . . . . 

  

The leaves, they are a changing  . . .  and more noticeably now.  I have seen them slowly beginning the dance for a few weeks now, but now they begin to kick their heels up with abandonment . . .  skittering here and skittering there, flirting with every old breeze that comes along  . . .  

   

 As roses fade and petals fall, our trees begin to put on a brilliant show of golds and russets, orange and brown and the odd scarlet here and there.  Its a beautiful time . . .  

 

The sights, the smells . . .  the sounds.  Leaves skittering across the pavement to the tune of an autumn breeze . . .  the children from the nearby school during breaktime, ah how we have missed their cheerful voices  . . .  the sounds of the apple pickers in the orchards . . . the sound of ripe fruit falling from the trees to the ground on a sunny day, the birds go silent now, they, too, are hunkering down . . . 

  

 

Leaves at Play

Scamper, little leaves, about,

In the Autumn sun.

I can the old Wind shout,

Laughing, as you run,

And I haven't any doubt,

That he likes the fun. 

So run on and have your play,

Romp with all your might.

Dance across the autumn day,

When the sun is bright.

Soon, you'll hear the old Wind say,

"Little leaves, good night."

 

 

I love these old poems and verses.  They make me smile and think of kinder gentler days, when things like the changing seasons were revered . . . in school we drew pictures of the changing seasons, and cut out leaves from coloured paper to scatter around the classroom walls. We collected and pressed fallen leaves in wax paper  for school projects, trying to capture as many different ones as we could, painstakingly writing about them on lined paper using our very best penmanship . . .  each one vying to be better than the next one, hoping to win the prize for best Autumn Essay, perhaps a new pencil or notebook . . . 

 

We start to enjoy apple and pumpkin desserts  . . .  pies and cakes and crumbles . . .  and we don't feel guilty about it one little bit.  The season of comfort is well on its way  . . . 

 

 

Apples and cinnamon, warm hoodies, buttered squash and brown sugar, flickering candlelight, rain falling on the roof, skittering leaves, warm crackling fires, pumpkin spiced lattes, fuzzy slippers, chili and cornbread, pumpkin pies topped with billows of whipped cream, roast pork with cracklin' and apple sauce, flannel sheets, nesting  . . .  cosying up with good books, old movies . . . canoodling season is here . . . .

 

Autumn shows us how beautiful it can be to just let things go  . . .  

 

Good morning from Mr. Personality!   

He just oozes it  . . . 

 

Cinnamon is a little bit more sedate!  I am off to have breakfast with my father this morning, so I hope you will forgive me for posting something from a number of years back. I loved this post that I did back in 2018 and thought it would be nice to see it again.  Who would have thought that just a few years later I would be able to breakfast with my father.  Life is good.

And with that I will leave you with a thought for today . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★
 *Every leaf speaks bliss to me,

fluttering from the autumn tree . . . 

~Emily Bronte   •。★★ 。* 。 

 

 

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Old Fashioned Gingerbread.  So delicious.  Spiked with rum soaked raisins and plenty of candied ginger.  This is one fabulous cake!

Have a great weekend! I hope that you enjoy it. Its hard to believe it is the last one in September. The year is simply flashing by. Don't forget! 

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And I do too!