The Chinese have a name for this time of year, Chushu, translates as end of heat; or maybe for the Uk a better name would have been the end of the hope of heat. This transition into Autumn is from the Chinese lunar calendar, a brief period lasting only for a couple of weeks and ending this year on the 7th September. Yesterday, as I pulled out the last of the climbing French beans, I thought the summer does change suddenly somehow in the space of a fortnight. The light, the air temperature and humidity and even the cat’s sleeping arrangements (she’s moved upstairs) have all shifted and like the late comer to the party we suddenly pick up on the vibrations all others are aware of.
This is a poem I wrote 10 years ago about this moment ….it seems to capture the Seasonal Slide quite well!
The Seasonal Slide
Summer: that golden siren, that seductress, that fickle tease
that gets us all heated up and then, without warning,
drops us smack into September without so much as a proper goodbye.
Like an engaging house guest, whose arrival we eagerly await,
summer does not overstay its welcome, but as soon as autumn arrives,
begins to slip discreetly away.
Summer satisfies to its end, offering us a reprieve from life's monotony
Days stretch out and we relax -caught up in it all - until in late August
The first signs appear alerting us that change is in the air.
Sunburns stop itching. Beaches are less crowded. The sun is lower in the sky.
Shop shelves are suddenly piled high with back-to-school supplies.
The light is different now, giving way to earlier sunsets
Slithering behind the horizon line as cooler winds off the water
whip up frothy-white bouquets of waves.
Dry leaves crunch on grass and we, who waited all year for summer's arrival, begin mourning its loss even before it's gone.
Perhaps nature intended it so. Like a passionate but brief love affair
that stops one's heart for a moment and then jolts us back to reality,
summer, too, must be short-lived in order to appreciate its splendour
a temptress, who woos us and then moves on.
But it leaves us memory gifts - so that on long winter nights,
snowbound and shivering, we recall a summer snapshot:
The sparkle of sunlight dancing on the sea, a cold beer on a scorching July afternoon, a child running along the water's edge at twilight... and the chill is momentarily forgotten.
Such was this summer: a sweet reminder of endless days, time moving more slowly
As we put our worries to one side and our lives on hold. Drifting, dreaming
as we bask in the glow of doing nothing at all, feeling, if only for a little while,
We had a gorgeous day at the coast this week, the sun came out and it was glorious on the quiet beach. Then two days of heavy rain and thunderstorms, switches everything up a bit doesn't it. One day flip-flops the next thick socks and cosy jumpers. And vegetable soup, comforting food which surprisingly I've missed. I find this transition into autumn tricky, so noticing the changes day by day definitely helps keep my spirits up.
Yes, the limes are turning in Sheffield too Lia. This week I had the joy of plants arriving from a specialist nursery. I love the connection with the people who grow plants and put so much love into what they do, especially if I’ve visited the nursery and met them. In this case it was my first ever intermediate irises from the wonderful Seagate Nurseries in Lincolnshire, which we drove past by chance in May this year. And yesterday I bought local damsons from the market in Ludlow. Just lovely!
In our corner of mid-west rural France, there’s a change in the air. Fresher mornings, dew on the grounds, conkers joining the apples on the ground. The loir (a cheeky squirrel type dormouse) in our loft is very active; gathering for a winter we can’t quite imagine right now. I’m working in the barn, cutting wood because the fire will need to be lit in a few weeks. All change.
Autumn all your senses are responding. Beautiful colours, the smell in the air, tasty crumbles, making plum and damson jam. Needing a woolly jumper or cardigan. Slowing down. Just beautiful 🕯️☕️🧶🥧🧡
I was gifted some plums from a relatives plum tree this week - so I made a spiced plum cake that we have had for breakfast every day, have some gin slowly being infused in a dark cupboard and the rest has been stewed and frozen to have later for crumbles and over yoghurt. I’m feeling gently autumnal but definitely all plummed out!
A black bear eating the bird suet thoughtfully not demolishing the feeder, tips of leaves turning red and gold, cozy nights, warm days, wearing a wool sweater
Dark mornings which don’t help with the return to school. Torrential rain for first two days back so two dripping teenagers arriving home (& I’m very glad they’re independent so I can stay home). Making plum ketchup and freezing the last of the plums.
Having returned to south west Cheshire after a week in our cabin in Wales, it’s like someone has flicked a switch and autumn has arrived- and how glad I am for it! The birch leaves are strewn amongst the grassy vegetation and are gathering in gateways in our village. Picking the autumn fruiting rasp’s from the garden, and a sweep of the chimney is imminent in preparation for lighting the log burner in anticipation of the cooler nights ahead.
Squealing and shrieking my way into the lido, which is just that little bit too cold after bobbing around in the geothermal pool, plus the wind chill factor which has the lifeguards huddled under fleeces and sipping hot drinks. The in-between weather keeps catching us out - is it cardigan weather, is it not, is it time for the raincoat? Wet leaves stuck to the bottom of my flipflops.
I bought cut lilies and then forgot that I bought them. Tonight I walked by and a sweet smell overtook me. The lilies opened and are powerfully fragrant Lovely.
The Chinese have a name for this time of year, Chushu, translates as end of heat; or maybe for the Uk a better name would have been the end of the hope of heat. This transition into Autumn is from the Chinese lunar calendar, a brief period lasting only for a couple of weeks and ending this year on the 7th September. Yesterday, as I pulled out the last of the climbing French beans, I thought the summer does change suddenly somehow in the space of a fortnight. The light, the air temperature and humidity and even the cat’s sleeping arrangements (she’s moved upstairs) have all shifted and like the late comer to the party we suddenly pick up on the vibrations all others are aware of.
This is a poem I wrote 10 years ago about this moment ….it seems to capture the Seasonal Slide quite well!
The Seasonal Slide
Summer: that golden siren, that seductress, that fickle tease
that gets us all heated up and then, without warning,
drops us smack into September without so much as a proper goodbye.
Like an engaging house guest, whose arrival we eagerly await,
summer does not overstay its welcome, but as soon as autumn arrives,
begins to slip discreetly away.
Summer satisfies to its end, offering us a reprieve from life's monotony
Days stretch out and we relax -caught up in it all - until in late August
The first signs appear alerting us that change is in the air.
Sunburns stop itching. Beaches are less crowded. The sun is lower in the sky.
Shop shelves are suddenly piled high with back-to-school supplies.
The light is different now, giving way to earlier sunsets
Slithering behind the horizon line as cooler winds off the water
whip up frothy-white bouquets of waves.
Dry leaves crunch on grass and we, who waited all year for summer's arrival, begin mourning its loss even before it's gone.
Perhaps nature intended it so. Like a passionate but brief love affair
that stops one's heart for a moment and then jolts us back to reality,
summer, too, must be short-lived in order to appreciate its splendour
a temptress, who woos us and then moves on.
But it leaves us memory gifts - so that on long winter nights,
snowbound and shivering, we recall a summer snapshot:
The sparkle of sunlight dancing on the sea, a cold beer on a scorching July afternoon, a child running along the water's edge at twilight... and the chill is momentarily forgotten.
Such was this summer: a sweet reminder of endless days, time moving more slowly
As we put our worries to one side and our lives on hold. Drifting, dreaming
as we bask in the glow of doing nothing at all, feeling, if only for a little while,
forever invincible and young.
September 2014
Summer will now arrive in my mind as a sexy seductress. Perfect image!
Oh Sue this is just beautiful and indeed a perfect capture of this time of year!
How lovely Sue. Thank you 🌻
So lovely Sue, thank you 🙂
We had a gorgeous day at the coast this week, the sun came out and it was glorious on the quiet beach. Then two days of heavy rain and thunderstorms, switches everything up a bit doesn't it. One day flip-flops the next thick socks and cosy jumpers. And vegetable soup, comforting food which surprisingly I've missed. I find this transition into autumn tricky, so noticing the changes day by day definitely helps keep my spirits up.
Yes, the limes are turning in Sheffield too Lia. This week I had the joy of plants arriving from a specialist nursery. I love the connection with the people who grow plants and put so much love into what they do, especially if I’ve visited the nursery and met them. In this case it was my first ever intermediate irises from the wonderful Seagate Nurseries in Lincolnshire, which we drove past by chance in May this year. And yesterday I bought local damsons from the market in Ludlow. Just lovely!
love those connections!
In our corner of mid-west rural France, there’s a change in the air. Fresher mornings, dew on the grounds, conkers joining the apples on the ground. The loir (a cheeky squirrel type dormouse) in our loft is very active; gathering for a winter we can’t quite imagine right now. I’m working in the barn, cutting wood because the fire will need to be lit in a few weeks. All change.
Autumn all your senses are responding. Beautiful colours, the smell in the air, tasty crumbles, making plum and damson jam. Needing a woolly jumper or cardigan. Slowing down. Just beautiful 🕯️☕️🧶🥧🧡
I like the slowing down bit
I was gifted some plums from a relatives plum tree this week - so I made a spiced plum cake that we have had for breakfast every day, have some gin slowly being infused in a dark cupboard and the rest has been stewed and frozen to have later for crumbles and over yoghurt. I’m feeling gently autumnal but definitely all plummed out!
A black bear eating the bird suet thoughtfully not demolishing the feeder, tips of leaves turning red and gold, cozy nights, warm days, wearing a wool sweater
Dark mornings which don’t help with the return to school. Torrential rain for first two days back so two dripping teenagers arriving home (& I’m very glad they’re independent so I can stay home). Making plum ketchup and freezing the last of the plums.
Having returned to south west Cheshire after a week in our cabin in Wales, it’s like someone has flicked a switch and autumn has arrived- and how glad I am for it! The birch leaves are strewn amongst the grassy vegetation and are gathering in gateways in our village. Picking the autumn fruiting rasp’s from the garden, and a sweep of the chimney is imminent in preparation for lighting the log burner in anticipation of the cooler nights ahead.
Squealing and shrieking my way into the lido, which is just that little bit too cold after bobbing around in the geothermal pool, plus the wind chill factor which has the lifeguards huddled under fleeces and sipping hot drinks. The in-between weather keeps catching us out - is it cardigan weather, is it not, is it time for the raincoat? Wet leaves stuck to the bottom of my flipflops.
Enjoying the last of the summer sunshine on holiday in beautiful Slovenia 😊
Eking out the summer as much as I can too, off to Portugal on Sunday
I bought cut lilies and then forgot that I bought them. Tonight I walked by and a sweet smell overtook me. The lilies opened and are powerfully fragrant Lovely.
My Almanac has arrived and is tucked safely away to enjoy next year.
By the pond wings are being stretched and feathers preened. I've not witnessed any test flaps yet, but I'm sure they'll be happening soon.
The hints of colour in the trees have spread into a patchwork.
The weather forecast says to expect 23°C today, then 4°C overnight by the end of the week.
The soft autumnal light, warming and gentle on my eyes and my skin. It's no longer harsh or abrasive, it's welcoming.
Breaking out the knitting needles for my first project of the cozy / crafty months.
snap!
amazing isn't it, that urge suddenly comes on.