And Then We All Had Tea: Saturday Nice . . .

(source)

A lingering touch of summer in the air

As if she waited with reluctant feel

Like a young bride, fearful to be wed,

Here Lady Autumn loiters by my street

Touching the trees with little dusty hands,

Spreading her mantle over all the lands.

Beside the road the golden rod are waving

Like helmet plumes caught in the morning light,

The corn is tall, the fields are checkered green.

Far in the blue an airman wheels in flight

Small as a bird he climbs the skies' vast dome,

Like a bright spirit slowly winging home.

A farmhouse stands four-square beside the road,

Its stone foundations strong as armoured steel,

It looks serene and safe and filled with peace,

Like an old ship who rids on even keel,

Breasting the seas of life in storm and shine,

Its old rooms rendolent of fir and pine.

And all about the golden sunlight falls,

Still as the grave and bright as jaspar walls.

~Edna Jacques, Fall

Aunt Hattie's Place, 1949

The trees across the way are looking almost threadbare now. All it takes is a bit of wind, and we have had plenty, to bring them down dancing upon the earth. I like to sit in my chair and watch them swirling up and down the street dancing to a symphony of brilliant amber, russet and golds. It won't be long now before they are all down on the ground and the bare branches of the trees will be reaching upwards, dark and silent against the pewter skies.

There are some who don't like the autumn or fall as it is also called . . . they see it as an ending. I see it as a beginning . . . of the deep sleep, in preparation for rebirth in the spring. If you look closely you will see the spark of bud nestled in the tips of the branches, waiting for the warmth to bring them to life again. Falling leaves teach us the hope that comes from letting go in trust, and the belief of better things to come.

One of Eileen's workers came by yesterday. She did Eileen's nails and toenails. Eileen was really pleased with that. Her nails looked really pretty when they were done. We made great progress yesterday. She is a lot more comfortable now and was able to sit on the sofa for a while and even do some diamond art last night. It does my heart good to see the little improvements that are showing day by day. Our goal for next week is for her to be able to go out. Maybe tomorrow we will be able to go to my sister's for Sunday dinner. We will see. It would be nice.

We are hoping that she will be able to go out for a drive with one of her workers next week. She is supposed to get her hearing aids on the 28th, which would be nice for her. She said to me, "I'm going to be able to finally hear things I haven't heard in a long time." I said, "yes, and then when Nutmeg is snoring, you will be able to hear how cute it is too!"

We were talking about Christmas last night and things that she could make for gifts to give to her friends and family. Simple things like fudge, and candy bark. I showed her a few things. She was quite amenable to the idea. So we will see how it goes. It is nice to be looking forward with positivity.

(source)

Now is the time for the burning of the leaves,

They go to the fire; the nostril pricks with smoke

Wandering slowly into a weeping mist.

Brittle and blotches, ragged and rotten sheaves!

A flame seizes the smouldering ruin and bites

On stubborn stalks that crackle as they resist.

The last hollyhock's fallen tower is dust;

All the spices of June are a bitter reek,

All the extravagant riches spent and mean.

All burns! The reddest rose is a ghost;

Sparks whirl up, to expire in the mist: the wild

Fingers of fire are making corruption clean.

Now is the time for stripping the spirit bare,

Time for the burning of days ended and done,

Idle solace of things that have gone before:

Rootless hope and fruitless desire are there;

Let them go to the fire, with never a look behind.

The world that was ours is a world that is ours no more.

They will come again, the leaf and the flower, to arise

From squalor of rottenness into the old splendour,

And magical scents to a wondering memory bring;

The same glory, to shine upon different eyes.

Earth cares for her own ruins, naught forours.

Nothing is certain, only the certain spring.

~Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

That is something you don't really smell these days . . . burning leaves, but it was quite common when I was growing up. People had their tin barrels at the back of the garden and along would come a bright and chill day in early November and Saturday would be spent in feeding the barrel with leaves and watching them burn, the smell of them filling the air.

Is there anything that says autumn quite like the smell of burning leaves? The moment that smoky, earthy fragrance drifts through the air, I'm instantly transported back to simpler days. Crisp afternoons spent outdoors, wooly sweaters pulled on against the chill, golden leaves crunching beneath my feet, and the promise of something warm waiting in the kitchen when I got home.

It is the scent that carries memories. Of changing seasons. Of shorter days and cozy evenings. Of gathering close, slowing down, and appreciating life's simple pleasures.

For some it is the smell of childhood. For others, it's a reminder that nature is preparing for it's long winter rest. Whatever memories it stirs, there's something magical about it. One deep breath and suddenly autumn feels real.

(source)

I saw that worrying had come to nothing, And gave

it up. And tool my old body and went out into

the morning and sang.

~Mary Oliver

I've spent far too many hours in my life worrying about things that never happened.

Worrying about tomorrow doesn't change tomorrow. It doesn't solve problems before they arrive. It doesn't soften disappointments or make difficult days easier. Most of the time, it simply steals the joy from today.

How much of what we worry about ever comes to pass? Very little, if we are honest.

The truth is that life has a way of unfolding whether we fret over it or not. Challenges come, challenges go. Problems get solved. New opportunities appear where we least expect them. And somehow, we almost always find a way through them.

I have learned that there is a tremendous freedom in doing what you can, accepting what you can't control, and trusting that you'll handle whatever coms your way when the time arrives.

The sun still rises. The seasons still change. Bread still bakes. Tea still tastes good. Life still offers beautiful moments, even on uncertain days.

So today, I'm going to trade my worries for gratitude. To focus on what's right in front of me instead of what might happen somewhere down the road. After all . . . today is a gift and it seems a shame to spend it borrowing trouble from tomorrow.

(source)

🍁🍁🍁How to Celebrate Autumn🍁🍁🍁

Everything apples. Going to the farm for apple picking, apple fritters, and warm apple cider. Coming home to the smell of apples and cinnamon baking in the oven.
Homemade hot chocolate.
Switching out the summer bedding to the fall bedding and adding a new decorative pillow for something new.
Bringing out vintage Halloween decorations. A few ceramic pumpkins and extra bits of orange around the house. Pumpkin mugs and pie dishes. (I love my Mud Pie pumpkin one with the lid that has the words "In Pie We Crust" stamped across the front of it.
Hot tea and cinnamon buns.
Taking a walk on a golden trail in the aspen woods with their leaves glowing in the light while listening to the birds and wild geese fly overheat. Later a hot bowl of soup sipped in front of a campfire, wrapped in a blanket or quilt.
Putting on cozy socks early in the morning and reading while drinking a hot drink on the sofa, music playing softly in the background.
Switching out the candles from spring florals to the spicy scents of fall.
Bring out the sweaters . . . major joy!
Warm baths, hot tea, pumpkin muffins and your favourite book. Little Women springs to mind.
Seasonal fruits and veggies. Apples, pears, squashes, pumpkins. Nothing says autumn like mulled apple cider and acorn squash soup.

(source)

I don't think existence wants you to be serious. I have

not seen a serious tree. I have not seen a serious bird. I have not seen

a serious sunrise. I have not seen a serious starry night.

It seems they are all laughing in their own ways, dancing in their own ways.

We may not understand it, but there is a subtle feeling that

the whole existence is a celebration.

~Osho

Life was never meant to be merely endured. It was meant to be celebrated.

Not just on big days. Not just birthdays, anniversaries, promotions, or milestones. Life asks us to celebrate the ordinary moments as well. The morning coffee that tastes just right. A phone all from an old friend. The sound of rain on the roof. The laughter of a child. The comfort of coming home.

We spend so much time waiting for something special to happen that we sometimes forget that something special is happening right now. Every day is a gift that arrives quietly, asking nothing more than to be noticed. The changing seasons, the people we love, the meals we share, the sunsets we pause to admire. These are the things that make up a life.

Perhaps celebrating life isn't bout grand gestures or extravagant experiences. Perhaps it's about gratitude and the practice of it. About recognizing the beauty tucked into ordinary days and being thankful for it.

And so today, I celebrate. Not because everything is perfect, but because I am here. Because I am breathing. Because I've been blessed with another change to love, to learn, to laugh and to make memories.

And really, isn't that reason enough?

(source)

I don't have a lot planned for today. I hope at some point I can slip out to the Grocery store and pick up the inevitable cat food that I am always running out of. I have some leftover roast pork that I want to make into fried rice. (We both love that.) I want to tidy up the house and get it ready for Sunday. I like my house to be tidy on Sunday. It adds to the restfulness of my day of rest. Just enjoying time with Eileen and perhaps watching a film later on. Can you believe I've never seen Practical Magic? I haven't so that is on the cards while spooky season is with us. I also hope to get to responding to my comments and emails. 💛

And with that I will bid you farewell for this weekend with a thought to carry with you . .

☾ ° ★° * 。

• ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • •。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜田田｜門 ★

*Life starts all over again

when it gets crisp in the fall.

~F. Scott Fitzgerald