Saturday evening, and I wore myself out in the garden today, snipping back spent flowers and plants and preparing the beds for winter. I am about half way finished, and the wheelbarrow is piled high!!!
A cup of tea, a cookies, and a little nap revived me enough that I was able to start winding the warp for my new planned project on the loom, having finished the last batch of tea towels.
as they came from the loom
washed, pressed and awaiting hemming
This warp is delightful, - not as long, nor as wide - prospects of beaming and threading and sleying just eight inches of ends instead of twenty-four.
The warp is a lovely wheat coloured Bambu and the weft a delicious yellow.....
I can hardly wait, but there are only a few days left to enjoy lovely October sunshine
and brilliant blue October skies
while I fill the wheelbarrow and feed the compost bin.
And then the Melancholy Month of November....
ah well - Christmas comes after and I have lots of weaving plans
for whom I have an enduring love Her favourite song
Her cross was the illness and pain that she bore to the end of her life with the utmost grace and patience. She was renowned for her cheerfulness and understanding! Best Mum ever...... I remember her with deepest love on the 60th anniversary of her death. More Ms here at ABC Wednesday.....
I waken to a cool, quiet morning. Dawn is just breaking and as I open the door to the garden, and Bruce rushes by me, I look to the East and see faint wisps of clouds.
The last day of September, - how could this beautiful month possibly have sped by so quickly, - I just see the last of the White Rabbit's tail disappearing over the hills to the West, and here he is again, advancing from the East with his gift of luck for October to those who acknowledge him....
September days fade into memory, but autumn is still with us....poignant October is really the month when the Similkameen becomes glorious with fall colours
but up in the Chilcotin the days are getting frosty
and the leaves and grasses are incredibly beautiful.
Number Two Son captures these magnificent photos
of the meadow and the country side,
ablaze with brilliant blue skies and shimmering golden shrubs and grasses.
Besides the beauty they are eternally grateful
that the Meadow was bypassed by the ferocious fires
that left so many bereft.....of homes, and trees, and forests....
Two lovely poems by Sarah Teasdale
"Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing.
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer."
"The leaves fall patiently
Nothing remembers or grieves,
The river takes to the sea
The yellow drift of leaves.
Tomorrow we will greet sweet October who carries us through
to the sorrows of November.....
The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause
between the opposing miseries of
Summer and Winter
Carol Bishop Hipps
Out in the garden the Chrysanthemums are still budding,
but the Asters are glorious in the sunshine,
full of bees.
and the Sedums...
William Cowper says "Gardening imparts an organic perspective
on the passage of Time."
True - but today I am looking ahead and threading the loom....
and preparing to welcome the White Rabbit after midnight....
Today a sweet great granddaughter celebrates her second birthday, but I am home nursing an arthritic knee which was not in a party mode and got that way after a water skiing injury, some forty years ago. Nevertheless, it causes raised eyebrows when I answer inquiries about the source of lameness in my knee with a casual "a water skiing accident". At 92......seriously!!!!!
Nevertheless I am sorry to miss sweet Olivia's birthday party..... I know it will be a fun affair
with all sorts of little ones, their Moms and Dads and probably
grandparents. balloons, party snacks and birthday cake. Ah well...
It behooves me to think that little ones birthdays parties are made
for great grandparents to just pop in with hugs and kisses and presents,
and then to quietly disappear!!!
I was up early this morning (as I am most mornings so Bruce can run out to the garden for his usual morning visit). It gives me time for a leisurely breakfast, and while I enjoyed my second cup of coffee I took down from the bookshelf one of the volumes of my Blog, circa 2008.
Shortly after I began to write I realized this blog was really a journal, and considering future years when memories would likely be important, and at family urging, I started to have it published by Blog2U,
Well, leafing through this particular book, recording this particular year, I realized that life, and my writings about it, have become sparse and scanty in comparison to the rich happiness within the pages written while my dearest one was still alive and sharing...
Sometimes I am so desperately lonely for him, despite all the kindnesses of children and family.
I am so desperately lonely for him, and yet at the same time, as I read about the days we lived together, I am so very grateful for those times, and the opportunity to remember them, smiling and full of gratitude. They become alive again, - our conversations, our photo drives in the country side, someone dear to have breakfast with, and I think how lucky we were!!
To add to the poignancy, while arranging my hair as I prepared for church, I caught the faintest glimpse of my mother in the mirror........it is one of those days when the veil between time and eternity thins to gossamer, that veil between the present and the past. A day to be treasured....
"One of our old neglected apple trees is so burdened with fruit this year that a limb has cracked, turned brown, and drapes, limp-wristed, bejewelled with apples that ripen, day after day, on those lifeless fingers. This morning I noticed that hornets have come to set each garnet in golden filigree"
and he goes on to say, about September...
"Labor Day weekend, rainy and cool, and the second hatch of barn swallows are still in their nest under the eaves, three of them, downy and mewing, their beaks like buds just opening, while the rest of the swallows, an extended family of a dozen or more, including the year's first hatch, wheel round and round this axis, crying, as if to unwind the invisible thread that holds them here,
with winter coming".
A beautiful expression of a poet's awareness
it is well named
"A Poet's Field Guide"
Open it to any page and there is a vignette of life;
creative, imaginative, heart touching, sometimes poignant