Watching the amber coloured harvest moon rising over the Thames on a balmy evening, London’s south bank was vibrant and joyful with a DJ playing music and people dancing, as though celebrating that last warmth before the autumn really comes in
Being thankful that last week’s cold snap and north wind turned into a delicious warm spell and having lunchtime naps in the garden under the sun
The first deep crimson and vivid traffic light red of the Virginia creeper leaves changing colours
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 were both in awe of their weird and wonderfulness, their curly tendrils and decided we would become pumpkin farmers so that next year we could claim to have nurtured such beauty!
Travelling with the Harvest Moon across the sea to Tiree . Sunrise beautiful over the islands and the Atlantic Ocean stunning .
Hot sunshine here in Scotland & the rowan trees blazing with their red fruits -collecting and making amulets for our travels .Filming in the islands & Sea Change Film Festival blessed with 🌞 for our seaweed foraging walks 🌊
This week; evenings watching the sun set in a bright red sky, lieing 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.
Busy busy week packing layers and getting organised for our trip to Iceland. Watching the busy squirrels as they gorge on sunflower seeds and bury every nut I put out. The return of the robin (he actually came back a couple of weeks ago). Slowing down and watching the young dunnock who has definitely moved into the garden. Watching the moon and bats before bed. 🍂
Butterflies. The unexpected warm snap here in SE London seems to have brought out all the butterflies that we have all missed so much this year. Such a joy. I just hope they can find enough nectar and egg laying spots at this time of year.
It’s been all about migration this week. Two evenings this week the sky has been filled with swallows and house martins feeding above the woods and fields for several hours. A really magical sight that so few will have noticed. Also a flock of chiff chaffs at our pond. Never seen so many together (about 10). Strangely I didn’t get much gardening done as I was distracted by the birds.
Having the opportunity to remember 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!
This week has been about country walks to make the most of our late summer sunshine. I wandered about the neighbourhood allotment and marvelled at the pumpkins and butternut squash, the raspberries, apples and beans.
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.
The mornings have turned chilly … it’s relative, of course, as 9° isn’t particularly cold; in contrast to the stifling overnight temperatures of Summer though. I’ve noticed the 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. My chainsaw whines at the overtime as I prepare log piles, my impatience for the smell of woodsmoke pushing me on. September is drifting slowly in our slow paced smallholding life.
Line-drying all the washing for a whole week, and airing the woollen blankets from the living room sofa. Surprised by the sound of the leaves starting to fall from the whitebeam and elder at the end of the garden while filling and emptying the washing lines - the whitebeam is already almost completely bare,
My boys have settled into their new school routine which has allowed myself some time during the days to work in the studio. I watch (uninterrupted) as the leaves fall from the trees outside my window. It has been warm here in Ontario, but the goldenrod and purple aster has exploded along the highways, filling my heart with glee as autumn draws near. I taught my first kindergarten art class in a yurt on Tuesday, and as I lugged my overflowing basket of supplies down the stone path, my feet delighted in the sensation of dry leaves crunching beneath my boots. My favourite time of year is here!
Watching the amber coloured harvest moon rising over the Thames on a balmy evening, London’s south bank was vibrant and joyful with a DJ playing music and people dancing, as though celebrating that last warmth before the autumn really comes in
Being thankful that last week’s cold snap and north wind turned into a delicious warm spell and having lunchtime naps in the garden under the sun
The first deep crimson and vivid traffic light red of the Virginia creeper leaves changing colours
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 were both in awe of their weird and wonderfulness, their curly tendrils and decided we would become pumpkin farmers so that next year we could claim to have nurtured such beauty!
Travelling with the Harvest Moon across the sea to Tiree . Sunrise beautiful over the islands and the Atlantic Ocean stunning .
Hot sunshine here in Scotland & the rowan trees blazing with their red fruits -collecting and making amulets for our travels .Filming in the islands & Sea Change Film Festival blessed with 🌞 for our seaweed foraging walks 🌊
This week; evenings watching the sun set in a bright red sky, lieing 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.
These evenings sound quite magical.
Busy busy week packing layers and getting organised for our trip to Iceland. Watching the busy squirrels as they gorge on sunflower seeds and bury every nut I put out. The return of the robin (he actually came back a couple of weeks ago). Slowing down and watching the young dunnock who has definitely moved into the garden. Watching the moon and bats before bed. 🍂
Good luck with your trip to Iceland. It's still on my bucket list.
Butterflies. The unexpected warm snap here in SE London seems to have brought out all the butterflies that we have all missed so much this year. Such a joy. I just hope they can find enough nectar and egg laying spots at this time of year.
It’s been all about migration this week. Two evenings this week the sky has been filled with swallows and house martins feeding above the woods and fields for several hours. A really magical sight that so few will have noticed. Also a flock of chiff chaffs at our pond. Never seen so many together (about 10). Strangely I didn’t get much gardening done as I was distracted by the birds.
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 Hosta’s from green leaves to gold and alongside them as if from no where 9 tall spears and buds of the Nerines.
Having the opportunity to remember 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!
This week has been about country walks to make the most of our late summer sunshine. I wandered about the neighbourhood allotment and marvelled at the pumpkins and butternut squash, the raspberries, apples and beans.
Feeling very pleased with myself for cleaning and treating the wooden garden furniture for the first time in years 😇
well done!!
Thank you!
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.
The mornings have turned chilly … it’s relative, of course, as 9° isn’t particularly cold; in contrast to the stifling overnight temperatures of Summer though. I’ve noticed the 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. My chainsaw whines at the overtime as I prepare log piles, my impatience for the smell of woodsmoke pushing me on. September is drifting slowly in our slow paced smallholding life.
Line-drying all the washing for a whole week, and airing the woollen blankets from the living room sofa. Surprised by the sound of the leaves starting to fall from the whitebeam and elder at the end of the garden while filling and emptying the washing lines - the whitebeam is already almost completely bare,
Lovely 🥰
My boys have settled into their new school routine which has allowed myself some time during the days to work in the studio. I watch (uninterrupted) as the leaves fall from the trees outside my window. It has been warm here in Ontario, but the goldenrod and purple aster has exploded along the highways, filling my heart with glee as autumn draws near. I taught my first kindergarten art class in a yurt on Tuesday, and as I lugged my overflowing basket of supplies down the stone path, my feet delighted in the sensation of dry leaves crunching beneath my boots. My favourite time of year is here!