November Days

Tonight our semi-annual clock fiddling takes place once again.

An hour backwards from Daylight Saving Time, affording an extra hour of sleep on these colder mornings.

Just enough time to remind us, that the year is winding down, and soon, a long sleepy winter will be our companion.

A time to regenerate our weary souls, and make new plans for the coming year ahead.

A time to dream.

 

 

" It was November - the month of

crimson sunsets, parting birds,

deep, and hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.

Anne roamed through the pineland

alleys in the park and, as she said,

let that great sweeping wind

blow the fog out of her soul.

L.N Montgomery

~ Anne of Green Gables

Trick Or Treat

 We'll leave the light on for you.

 

" By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes,
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks ".
 
Shakespeare / Macbeth 1606

 

 

 

 

Autumn Muskiness

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 school 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

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

These first few days of Autumn, a little decorating, a little gardening, a little relaxing 

Nights are drawing in fast, dark before the clock strikes seven now.
Our days are still seasonally warm in these southern United States, giving the opportunity to finish those end of summer chores, before Old Man Winter sets in.
Leaves are beginning to gather, hummingbirds are making their way deeper South, the rhythm of life is noticeably slowing.
The smell of wood-smoke fills the night air.

Indian Summer

Indian Summer is upon us. Balmy warm days, and mist-laden nights.

One last chance to indulge in fleeting Summer pleasures.

An early American writer described Indian Summer well when he wrote, "The air is perfectly quiescent and all is stillness, as if Nature, after her exertions during the Summer, were now at rest."

     

 ~ John Bradbury 1817

Autumn

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

Autumn Silence

Enjoying a day of quiet time . 

The trees are changing color, and Autumn leaves are making a show, finally.
Some days it's good to do nothing. No deadlines to meet, no chores to complete, no lists to check twice.
Bliss.

Nature's Gifts

One of the perks of my daughter's little farm, are the daily fresh eggs.

She shares them with family and friends alike.

If you've never tasted a farm fresh egg, you are missing out, those store bought eggs are just not all they are cracked-up to be.

*giggle*

 

 

 

 

 

Farm-fresh eggs have one-third less cholesterol, a quarter less saturated fats and twice as many omega three fatty acids, than store-bought eggs.

They also have more vitamin A and E and seven times more beta carotene.

And more important, the chickens are raised humanely.

Egg-gathering always seems to draw a crowd .

The Dog Days Of Summer

Dog Days defines a time period or event that is very hot or stagnant, or marked by dull lack of progress.
The name comes from the ancient belief that Sirius, also called the Dog Star, was somehow responsible for the hot weather.
These early days of September, we seem to have hit that mark.

Hot summer days, no rainfall in sight.
Even the birds have taken to their nests...

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.

September

" September days have the warmth of summer in their briefer hours,
But in their lengthening evenings a prophetic breath of autumn.                            

The cricket chirps in the noontide, making the most of what remains of his brief life.
The bumblebee is busy among the clover blossoms of the aftermath,
And their shrill and dreamy hum hold the outdoor world above the voices of the song birds,
Now silent or departed."-

~ September Days : Rowland E. Robinson, Vermont

'Til They're Clean And Sparkling

Starting off the day with incredible blue skies and  low humidity, as rare as hen's teeth in these Southern parts of the United States.

The  Mr. takes on the task of washing the house today, no small feat I can tell you.

Norseman's blood runs through my veins, after the temperature rises above 80 degrees I'm wilted like a head of week-old lettuce.

The best I can do is be the cold-water runner, when I spot the worker flailing.
*Sigh*

Summer's Waning

Blue skies and sunshine today. Lots of the stuff,  we are slap in the midst of summer with this 95 degree heat.

The flowers are fading fast, we have enjoyed their beauty these past few months, but continued heat and watering tends to take its toll.

School childern have returned to their scholastic lessons, our days now eerily quiet.

The twin fawns are flourishing , sprightly little things, all bouncy and curious. They enjoy a burst of zoomies daily.

Pop-up storms make their way through most evenings, a welcomed gesture to cool the night air.

We'll take whatever help we can get.

The Dog Days Of Summer

Dog Days defines a time period or event that is very hot or stagnant, or marked by dull lack of progress. The name comes from the ancient belief that Sirius, also called the Dog Star, was somehow responsible for the hot weather.

Either way, we seem to have hit that mark.

As with most of the country we are under a heat advisory for the next week, 95 degrees and 100 degrees plus with the humidity factor figured in.
If you can avoid staying outside especially for long periods of time, then it is best to do so.

Even the birds have taken to their nests...……

By The Light Of The Silvery Moon

The full Sturgeon Moon will be visible between August 8th and 9th , 2025

 It reaches its peak illumination on Saturday, August 9th, at 3:55 a.m. EDT.

 This full moon is named for the sturgeon fish, which are abundant in the waters of the northeastern United States during this time of year. 

 

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy coat the white breasts peep

Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Silver : Walter de la Mare

August Days

 " The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. "

~Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting