October Days

We had our first real taste of Autumn weather last night, tonight down in the mid forties and snugly blankets will once again return to the beds.

The sound of distant laughter can be heard from giggly school children enjoying their Fall break, and down on Main Street Oktoberfest's are in full swing.

"When everything that ticked has stopped,

And space stares, all around,

Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,

Repeal the beating ground."

 Emily Dickinson, Time and Eternity, LXXV

Autumn Muskiness

 

“It was one of those sumptuous days when the world is full of autumn muskiness and tangy, crisp perfection: vivid blue sky, deep green fields, leaves in a thousand luminous hues. It is a truly astounding sight when every tree in a landscape becomes individual, when each winding back highway and plump hillside is suddenly and infinitely splashed with every sharp shade that nature can bestow - flaming scarlet, lustrous gold, throbbing vermilion, fiery orange.”

        ~ Bill Bryson

Perfection

The most perfect of Fall days. 

A mere seventy four degrees, sunshine and NO humidity, which is rare as hen's teeth for this part of the country.

Tom-Tilly is chasing leaves around the garden, she seems to have accepted that Oliver is off on his travels, wherever they may have taken him...... 

There is much garden work to do before the first frost appears, but for now, a little down-time between seasons is enjoyed, and savored.

Salt Box Houses

 Primitive New England saltbox houses.
I do seem to have a soft spot for them.

Season's End

The first time I laid eyes on this incredible English landscape painting, was in my hometown museum, I was smitten.

Depicting the ordinary, mundane chores of a gardener, at seasons end.

It reminded me of watching my grandfather, as he put his garden to rest after a successful growing season,  piles of now-spent rhubarb leaves, and endless stacks of  withered flowers.

I couldn't have been more than four years old at the time, but what an impression those days left on my early life.

A season ending, to begin again anew in just a few short months.

 

 

                                                                     Evening_Brockham

 

               Edward Wilkins Waite  (14 April 1854 – 1924)

 

Early Autumn Days

Summer Days have not yet took their leave.

The most perfect of Autumnal days today, blue skies and sunshine galore.
Our rainfall has been little to none for an entire month, many of the trees have already lost their brown leaves prematurely.
The air conditioner continues to hum....

 

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells."

~ John Keats

Goodbye Sweet Summer

      

       " When summer gathers up her robes of glory, and like a dream of beauty glides away. "

 ~Sarah Helen Power Whitman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shine On Harvest Moon

The Harvest Moon brightened up the night sky as soon as the sun set.

For several days before and after the full moon, the moon hangs in the sky like a great, glowing lantern and prolongs the light far after sunset. It rises about the time the sun sets, but more importantly, at this time of year, instead of rising at its normal average of 40 minutes later each day, the moon seems to rise at nearly the same time each night.
This results in an abundance of bright moonlight early in the evening, which was a traditional aide to farmers and crews harvesting their summer-grown crops. Hence, the name "Harvest" Moon. 

Simply magical !

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes

And roofs of villages, on woodland crests

And their aerial neighborhoods of nests

Deserted, on the curtained window-panes

Of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes

And harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!

Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,

With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!

All things are symbols: the external shows

Of Nature have their image in the mind,

As flowers and fruits and falling of the leaves;

The song-birds leave us at the summer's close,

Only the empty nests are left behind,

And pipings of the quail among the sheaves.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

September Days

There is a stillness in the air, a slowing-down of sorts.

Nights are closing in fast, and darkness falls before the clock strikes seven thirty..

Candlelight glows.

 

 

Autumn Is Calling

Despite sultry August days, subtle signs of changing seasons are all around.

Summer days are noticeably shorter. There is a cooler rush to the evening air.
Down on  main street the shopkeepers are displaying their Autumn wares, and the feel of changing seasons is afoot.
The Summer's Gold Lantana blooms heartily,  as if it knows Summer's loveliest smile, is fleeting.