I snip the last of the dried roses into an overflowing potpourri basket and wonder what I will do with these lovely reminders of summer. Will I make wreaths? Where will I find the vines for them if I manage to realize my aspirations (which doesn't happen too often lately)?

Still, - a glorious wreath of dried roses and lovely red hips with a bright velvet bow would be quite delectable and inviting....

Autumn is gathering the days in, - the time between dawn and dusk diminishes and with All Hallow's Eve upon us the excitement of Christmas hovers just around life's next corner.

These are busy days. I make applesauce with my new shiny colander, and yesterday a jar of beautiful amber apple juice to refresh breakfast, an apple cake chock-a-block with raisins and walnuts for a Celebration of Life reception and a batch of orange muffins (which are so easy you seem to be popping them into the oven seconds after the thought of making them occurred to you.

In the blender you whirl up one whole orange, cut into quarters, 1/2 cup of orange juice, 1/2 cup of raisins, 1 egg and 1/2 cup of oil.

You mix this gently with 1 and 1/2 cups of flour, 1 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/2 cup of sugar which you have combined in a bowl.

Into a 350F oven they go for about 20 or 25 minutes. A lovely light muffin for tea time.


It has been a fly away week. It was Thursday when we made the trip to Penticton for the Class of '42 luncheon. The scenery was glorious on the drive over, - we seemed to be encased in the glowing shades of autumn.



There is only a smidgin of the Class of 42 still living close by, - and indeed, only a very few more elsewhere.

For twenty years, after the fortieth anniversary, this class met annually for a happy weekend of friendship and remembrance, some coming 3,000 miles from the Eastern Maritimes.



Somewhere in the last ten years the reunions became an evening out as energy dwindled and the ability to travel diminished. Now we meet quarterly for lunch!

This is Charles's Class of '42 but they open their hearts to spouses and I have many dear friends amongst them.



The talk is comfortable - there is no vying for position as there might have been in early years. There are no illusions, - there is laughter and friendship and remembrances and occasionally now sorrow at the news of deaths or disabilities.

And so it goes, - the air is still this morning. The leaves are falling gently on their own volition. Within October's brightness and beauty and bustle I find interwoven a faint gossamer thread of melancholy.