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.

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.

 

 

Summer's Gold

                                                       

" Oh, the summer night 

     Has a smile of light, 

And she sits on a sapphire throne".

Barry Cornwall

Through The Garden Gate

                                                   Sunshine and the humming of bees.

Makes for happy flowers.

 

Hotter Than A Pepper Sprout

We seemed to have transitioned from pleasantly warm days, to HOT.

Days in the high nineties with high humidity makes outdoor activities a challenge, calling for lots of drinking water, and the wearing of light clothing.

We are under a heat advisory for the next few days, 99 degrees tomorrow, if you can avoid staying outside especially for long periods of time, then it is best to do so.
Even the birds are trying to stay cool....

 

"Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it."

~ Russell Baker

 

May Days

A glorious mid-spring morning starts our day. Blues skies and sunshine aplenty.

I have Mother's day plants to get in the ground, so trying to hurry before the rain comes our way later in the week.
The distant sound of lawnmowers whirling is the only disruption to an otherwise peaceful respite.

Lest We Forget

 

"Your silent tents of green We deck with fragrant flowers;

Yours has the suffering been, The memory shall be ours."

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Memorial Day: Arlington National Cemetery

 

 

 

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.

Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old;

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

 

~ Laurence Binyon: For the Fallen 1914

God Bless  all the service men and women, without whose unselfish commitment, our lives would be forever changed.

Home Thoughts From Abroad

Oh to be in England

Now that April's there,

And whoever wakes in England

Sees, some morning, unaware,

That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough

In England - now!

And after April, when May follows,

And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!

Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops - at the bent spray's edge -

That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture!

And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups, the little children's dower-

Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower.

Home thoughts from abroad  ~ Robert Browning 1812-1889