The big, beautiful September poem

Thundering brooks, bare legs and cardigans, dancing in the last warmth

It is the last day of September and so it is time to gather together the thoughts of the month into one big, beautiful poem. Just in case you are new here: every week in these posts I ask the question: what was seasonal about your week? What did you see/hear/eat/smell/do that felt particular to this one week in the year? And everyone joins in in the comments section. At the end of the month I stitch all of those thoughts together into one big, beautiful poem, of sorts. I keep each week’s comments in its own clump so we can see how the month progressed, all mapped out in the minutiae of the lives of this community from all over the globe.

Before I begin I will say that there is a seasonal shift to this very poem, because I have noticed previously and again this year that the comments increase massively as the weather cools and dampens! So this is a looong one. For the first time I have recorded this post, in my best ‘poetry’ voice, so if you think you might prefer it do sit back and listen instead of reading. I did feel a bit like I should be attempting accents as you are all from such different places! You might be relieved to know that I didn’t…

Whatever you choose, settle in. Here we go:

The light, the air temperature and humidity and even the cat’s sleeping arrangements (she’s moved upstairs) have all shifted. Like the late comer to the party we suddenly pick up on the vibrations all others are aware of

One day flip-flops the next thick socks and cosy jumpers

Shiny year 7 students carrying overpacked rucksacks on their backs like turtles

Working in the barn, cutting wood because the fire will need to be lit in a few weeks

Making plum and damson jam

The first daddy long legs, drawn to the lights through the doors still optimistically open in the evenings

Wearing a cashmere jumper for the first time

Breaking out the knitting needles for my first project of the cosy/crafty months.

A gift of plums, so I made a spiced plum cake that we have had for breakfast every day, and have some gin slowly being infused in a dark cupboard

A black bear eating the bird suet, and thoughtfully not demolishing the feeder

Dark mornings and torrential rain for the return to school. Two dripping teenagers arriving home

Picking autumn raspberries and getting the chimney swept

The lido, just that little bit too cold. Wet leaves stuck to the bottom of my flipflops

The soft autumnal light, warming and gentle on my eyes and my skin

Drawing the curtains in the evening against the dark and chill for the first time since April

Can I remember how to work the central heating thermostat?

Up here in the far north, where summer finds me going 24/7 in the great outdoors due to the constant light of each day, I now find myself warming with a cuppa at my inside window nook as I acclimate to the new dusky damp mornings. I am spending more time inside my cozy kitchen canning, freezing and storing all that I have harvested, foraged or hunted. The best part of coming inside is that I now have time to sit down at my computer and reconnect with this wonderful group!

A little orange spider in the centre of her web, gently moving in the breeze

Being able to breathe again in the cooler mornings, opening the curtains to a world full of mist. Birdsong has returned to the garden.

UCAS application in progress for my youngest as we start her final year at home, sniff!

I don't feel ready yet, there's still so much to do in the garden and so much promise hanging on in there

By the pond wings are being stretched and feathers preened

The hints of colour in the trees have spread into a patchwork

Gathering grasses and seed heads from the garden for my seasonal space, and the last of the flowers from the garden for a pretty little jug on the kitchen table

The mornings are cool now but my favorite little lake is still warm enough for a few more swims

Leaving the Scottish coast for the Lakes in dreamy sunshine we walked listening to woodpeckers instead of the curlew, oystercatcher and heron

Brambles! This week has seen an early bramble harvest in the south east of Scotland, where our berries are usually a little later than elsewhere in the UK. Plenty of fruit gathered with plenty left for the birds and inattentive foragers

Spiders weave their webs across my garden. Honking geese overhead. Taking twice as long to get to work now that school is back in!

Four loads on the line on Saturday, in the balmy temperatures followed by an Easterly, then few heavy drops of rain. Spring!! (New Zealand…)

Back to school in our house, enjoying getting back to routine along with a strong urge to declutter and reorganise, like a huge reset button

The new shoots of gorse are flowering among the purple heather

Low sun, dazzling me at 9am and 3pm

Crumbles

Lighting the wood burner in the evenings

Butternut squash soup

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Low golden September sunlight between showers, trees awash with glittering raindrops, listening to Bob Dylan playing from a nearby building site and a woodpecker

Burning the last of the brightly coloured candles I bought for the summer and stocking up on ones in beautiful autumn colours from the shop down the road

Condensation on the car windows before work; summer dresses with boots and cardigans

A bat walk with the local park's "friends of" group - huddling in the dark, gazing up at a gorgeously clear evening sky and watching pipistrelles flutter and dive over our heads

Some people in woolly hats and others still in shorts and tea shirts

The heart hurt of dropping our youngest to begin university, and the quiet of the empty nest

The birds are busy again, gathering, feeding, resting on wires making travel plans

Pondering whether it is ‘more layers’ or ‘light the fire’

Putting out a basket of 'free apples - help yourself' from the windfalls that are littering the lawn

Early mornings going to work in the dark, watching the beautiful starlit pre-dawn skies and seeing Orion and his astronomical companions, a reminder that winter is soon to come

Baking maple syrup and hazelnut cookies

What do I wear? it's freezing when I get up (first tinge of frost this morning) and then the sun comes out and by afternoon I am roasting in that big jumper, only to need it again as soon as the sun goes down

Picking elderberries for syrup, rowan berries for jelly and rose hips for tea

Fuchsia and Japanese anemones flowering madly

Urging my tomatoes to ripen, in a brown paper bag nestled with a banana

Garden spiders wrap us in cobwebs as we saunter in the garden watching seeds go over and gathering those of calendula and sweet cicely

Deadheading the last of the summer bedding plants to try and stretch them out a little more, dark evenings means jigsaws are out and candles are lit

Doing the usual thing of summer is over, start thinking about Christmas - I need to remind myself to slow down and enjoy the autumn

Spotting conkers and busy squirrels

Walking through piles of crisp, crunchy leaves and collecting some nice flat ones for leaf printing with my little grandson

Crocheting new wrist and neck warmers, but haven't packed the summer clothes away just yet

This week I was struck by how the light had disappeared by the tail end of rowing practice - the first time this year putting the oars away in the dark

Geese flying in formation. Gravenstein apples appeared at the grocer…I'm making pie

Whole branches of trees now beginning turning to red, orange and gold, busy squirrels gathering acorns and no doubt hoping to find spring bulbs newly planted

Bare legs and a big cardigan

Those who are still hanging on to the promise of sunshine and sporting tans and nail varnished toes whilst others are wrapped up, buttoned and booted, declaring time on summer. My allegiance is swaying between the two on a daily basis

Collecting apples off of the ground. Cooking some and saving the best for juicing to make apple wine

The first fire in the evening and collecting parsnip and carrot seeds for spring sowings

Afternoon sun still strong enough to drive a small wiggly alligator lizard into the cool of the house

So glad of the sun, watching butterflies and bees and hanging on to the last threads of summer

Acorns crunching under foot

Out on my horse I see the bracken and the chestnut trees turning their leaves all shades of gold and brown, heralding the autumn

My daughter starting school for the first time, which has felt tender and joyful

Mist in layers along the valley, cloaking sheep in the field like a duvet, shrouding my dawn walk along a footpath where rose hips sparkle with moisture and blackberries hold fast to brambles

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Watching the amber coloured harvest moon rising over the Thames on a balmy evening, London’s south bank vibrant and joyful with a DJ playing music and people dancing, as though celebrating that last warmth before the autumn really comes in

Hot sunshine in Scotland and the rowan trees blazing with their red fruits

The return of the robin

The unexpected warm snap here in London seems to have brought out all the butterflies that we have all missed so much this year. Such a joy

Evenings watching the sun set in a bright red sky, lying in bed listening to the owls in the garden calling to each other, the room lit up by the harvest moon glowing brightly through the bedroom window

A huge delivery of pumpkins arrived at a farm shop on my commute to work so I pulled in spontaneously and helped excited shop keeper select the very biggest and most regal ones for his display! We decided we would become pumpkin farmers so that next year we could claim to have nurtured such beauty

The sky filled with swallows and house martins feeding above the woods and fields for several hours

Opening the door to a friend and not needing to put on the outside light as the glow from the harvest super moon did the job beautifully

The sudden change of my potted hostas from green leaves to gold and alongside them as if from nowhere nine tall spears and buds of the nerines

Remembering a dear friend with an afternoon group swim. While the water was chilly, we were able to dry off in the afternoon warmth of the sun and raise a glass in her memory

The last swim of the summer at sunset, the water choppier than I've ever seen it, as if to remind me autumn's on its way. And then as we shivered back to the tram stop, the harvest moon rose so huge and yellow I gasped and pointed, as did other people around us

The last gasp of summer - sitting in the garden after work and turning my face to the sun before the shade creeps in and there’s a chill in the air. Bare legs again

The garden seems full of bees and hoverflies all of a sudden and still a few swallows in the sky

Heavy dew as I try and conquer the overgrown meadow before next week’s predicted rain. The petrol mower creates its own symphony, humming along to the tractors growling around the fields

The maize surrounding our land is at maximum height, 8 feet of creepy, crackling horror film scenery, hinting at the unspeakable just yards way from where you’re working

The neighbourhood allotments full of pumpkins and butternut squash, the raspberries, apples and beans

Line-drying all the washing for a whole week, and airing the woollen blankets from the living room sofa

Cleaning and treating the wooden garden furniture for the first time in years

It has been warm here in Ontario, and the goldenrod and purple aster have exploded along the highways

Parcevall Hall Gardens in slanting golden sunshine, slowly sinking into autumn with the trees just beginning to change colour and the apples dropping from the heritage trees in the orchard

Spider webs. They’ve built them high up, from tree limb to tree limb, and between the utility wires. So pretty when the sun illuminates them in the morning

The partial lunar eclipse—just a tiny note taken out of the top of the Harvest Moon

So happy for the Indian Summer, to ease my return from Portugal. Paddington taxi rank at 1.30 am was no chillier than an Iberian night

Fog in the morning and when the sun shines, diamond dew on the grass

Finding the most perfect acorn for my nature altar

Harvesting the first fully ripe chilli peppers, and saving the seeds to provide next year's crop

It is a piece of wild magic to me how holding a conker prised newly from its case is like time travel, full of the echoes of decades of doing just this with precious others or alone

Morning swim in the sea at Borth, with the whiting jumping around us, the almost full moon above us and the sun coming up

Magnificent sunsets from our balcony and simultaneously moon rises from the bedroom, which to watch?

Packing for one last, late summer adventure to the beautiful island of Crete. Packing my case, filled with excitement knowing I will have one last dance with the sea and sun before we return to darker mornings and cold nights

Sycamore seeds spinning past our heads while we watched squirrels and a jay busying themselves for the season ahead

Flip flops and fleece; rose hips and new buds; fogged out full moonrise and yet the shadowed bit still detectable

Mist hovering over fields of pumpkins being harvested in the Willamette Valley, geese in the sky flying in V-shaped formations to the south, and a lower sun casting long shadows

Afternoon swim in the sea at Seasalter. The sea warm still. I’m hoping if I go every week I won’t feel the chill come so keenly, that it’ll be a gradual temperature drop

Went for a walk in our local woods and was surprised at how green the oak and beech trees still are, with no sign of leaves changing colour, they are still in full foliage

Looking out of the kitchen window over the sink: willowy fennel, the sunlight on its seed heads shimmering gold-green, and there - perfectly balanced, featherweight - a pair of chiff- chaffs

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Rivers have broken their banks. Sheep and cattle move to higher ground

The sound of rain drumming on the roof. Dripping coats all over the kitchen

Winds, leaves whirling

Pockets full of acorns and autumn leaves

Cosy in a little fisherman’s cottage in Brittany. Outside I can see the egrets and greenshanks searching for gifts left by the ebbing waters. Inside we are warmed by the heat from the logs burning in the ancient fireplace which bring the smell of pinewoods inside

Walking the dog in atrocious weather this week. Wellies out after months of summer hibernation

Traversing a carpet of beech nuts on my weekly run along the city moat

Soup for lunch rather than salad

Roses, salvias, pelargoniums and clematis undaunted by the rain, a bunch of soapwort fills the kitchen with scent

Having spent much of the summer either out with friends or in their bedrooms, the teenagers have joined us in the evenings, sitting together under blankets watching TV and laughing a lot. Autumn cosiness is setting in and it’s quite lovely

Thundering brook, drains overflowing, pond full

I was feeling quite gloomy, but then when I really looked, there's still so much summer left in the garden, many of my salvias are still defiantly blooming with their bold colours

Huddled under blankets watching low-peril autumn TV

A week of rainbows as the sun and rain collide

Tiny raindrops dangling from the end of fuchsia petals like little jewels

The herbs are starting to go over but bunches hanging in our kitchen bring the outside inside in somatic waves

Letting go of things that are no longer right (practically, mentally, whatever…) at a time when the leaves are starting to fall

Cosy jumpers, warm socks, fleecy blankets, homemade soup and fairy lights…as we await our boiler being replaced in three weeks time, gah!!

It is still hurricane season here, so I am waiting for the effects of the outer bands of a massive hurricane that came ashore in Florida to hit us here in North Carolina

Floods here in south Birmingham. My wellies live permanently by the back door in case I need to get outside quickly to unblock the drain in between the storms

Bright red apples fallen to the floor in a halo beneath the apple tree

Apple crumble, cottage pie, leaves on the turn and rain drenched asters everywhere

Started to sit in front of my Lumie SAD light panel while I have breakfast

Walking in the rain with my daughter dodging the deeper puddles. Back home to warm pyjamas and snuggles on the sofa under cosy blankets

Just finished grape harvesting. To hear the chatter of grape picker volunteers amongst the vines, their leaves yellowing, and the snip, thunk, as bunches of ripe grapes fall into the bucket, announces autumn

The door to the greenhouse is now tightly shut to keep the blight away from the last ripening tomatoes, much to the cats’ annoyance as they had got used to sleeping in there

Our last meal of fish and chips on the patio at the local seafood restaurant in the park before it closes up for the winter

Moody mornings, cool days, the end of the summer annuals

Isn’t that beautiful. Thank you so much for all of your wonderful and poetic thoughts and contributions throughout the month. Please let me know if you read it - or listened to it! - and enjoyed it, because it makes it all worthwhile.

Looking forward to doing it all again for October x