Leaves scurrying down the street before the wind.
The cold shiver from an arctic blast.
The last warmth of the sun.
Chilly mornings and glorious warm afternoons.
The touch of frost on grass and window pane.
The smell of burning leaves.
Keith C. Heidorn
A beautiful clear, rainwashed morning. The garden smells fresh and earthy. A robin is singing and sparrows fly on and off the feeders. A slight breeze is gently moving the leaves which glisten with drops of rain; a gull glides overhead shining silver as the sunlight flickers off its wings. Shadows move across the fields; some bare and brown after ploughing; some green with clumpy grass; others bleached almost white. A perfect day to work outside; can one be addicted to the outdoors?
My Ode to Autumn
Beneath a tawny canopy
October flicks her skirts of golden hue.
Leaves of amber twist and turn
and touch the ground.
Wisps of smoke
And purple berries
with morning dew.
Woke just before 7 a.m. to a rose-coloured sunrise. The back fields were swathed in mist; the treetops rising, ghost-like, hovering in mid air, as shafts of sunlight coloured their leaves russet and gold.
The cherry tomatoes growing outside are still producing and ripening even though we have had a touch of frost - soon I will have to pick all the tomatoes off and pull up the plants.
Another lovely day, although the wind was very strong. Later, just before bedtime, I went out and looked at the night sky, there was no cloud cover and the sky was studded with a myriad of stars shining brightly. With our feet firmly on the ground we forget sometimes to look up and see the wonder of the universe.
The second hand bookshop is still selling off hardback books at £1.00 each. Every week I pick one up. The one I am reading at the moment is 'Letters from Skye' by Jessica Brockmole. (United by letters. Separated by an ocean. Devastated by war. Through their letters they became the people they wanted to be).
A dull morning. I woke at 6.30 a.m. it was still dark. I slipped out of bed and went downstairs to make a pot of tea. Then returned to bed and read till it got light. There is a word for people who read in bed - Librocubicularist, although I couldn't find it in the dictionary! I buy yellow chrysanthemums because they make the room look cheerful.
And there you have it - my week in a nutshell.