Green above and brown below
Hello! A bitter-sweet week for me, more of which later, but I am warmed and extremely cosied by all of your comments, by which one would think that autumn is your favourite season… Not that we have favourites around here of course… but the utter delight you are all showing for mists, baking and (a theme!) soups is making me really ready to up my autumn game.
This is my weekly post in which we all track the seasons, keeping note of the things that we have noticed, made, eaten, smelt that have seemed particularly ‘this week’. We start off with a round up of your comments from the week before, made pretty and placed just so, like the poetry that they are, and then I tell you three of mine. And then you tell me yours from this week in the comments and it all begins again. Everyone can join in, there are no rules.
On this…a query: so many of you are now joining in that this first section is getting quite long. It’s an absolute joy that you are, but it makes me wonder each week - what do you think about this? I do edit and prune, and not all make it in, but I could make a greater effort to keep it snappier. Let me know in the comments at the bottom of the page.
Here is your Week 38 (and you can instantly see why it’s so long…):
The Aurora Borealis dancing ghostly and verdigris over the hills of Northumberland
Baking applesauce bread, inhaling the hug of cinnamon and nutmeg
Pulling a sweater on over a dress
Noisette and prune harvesting time in the southern Dordogne
Lighting candles in late afternoon to combat the darkening stormy skies
A welcomed return to soup season, starting with courgette & Parmesan
Sheets changed to brushed cotton ones patterned with leaves and acorns, enticing the cats to slept between us in the night
The white hydrangea delicately aging to rose pink, with hints of burnt sienna
Yellow rice terraces, just at peak ripeness, in Vietnam
Walking at Avebury to honour the Autumn Equinox - with nature offering showering light rain, rainbows and sunshine
The first really misty morning with the sun just breaking through; making the first batch of roasted squash soup
The first 'helicopter' sycamore key spinning its way to earth
Lights on in the morning, cardigans out of the cupboard and soups on the menu
First loaves of pumpkin bread
Lying on my belly in the garden while the earth is still warm enough to feel welcoming
Moving the sheets around on the line so they can dry in September sunshine
Mist hovering above the river
An equinox fire with friends and family in the garden
Spindle in its full glorious pinkish reds, peachy greens and with red and orange berries dangling like decorations, and a joyous though brief visit from twenty long-tailed tits
Home made sweet potato and red lentil soup
The cats getting snugglier, a blessing and a curse, as it’s impossible to remove them from my lap
Beautiful. Here’s my Week 39:
A late bumblebee
I was walking early in the morning, with the sun not long up, and a cool dew on all of the leaves, and there was this bumblebee, looking a little out of place and surely really chilly?? It looked lively enough and was having a good fumble around right in there, so there’s a little life in the bumblebee year yet.
Fairies in the grass
As I’m walking along through the grass, daddy long legs fly up ahead of my boots. It’s quite magical. Hard to capture that in a photo and they are not *quite* so magical up close, but there you are. Very autumnal anyway.
Freshers’ week
My son went to university at the weekend. I took him, and it was exciting like we were having a trip out together, and then it was heart breaking because we were doing it so that he would no longer live with me, but instead would now live two and a half hours away, and start his life without us. It’s very weird, we both kept saying, yeah, it’s really weird.
I realise when I picture ‘the empty nest’ I picture someone maybe older than me, and certainly more sorted. I see her in her very smart kitchen dressed in nice tasteful clothes, putting away the last of the dishes and then lightly wringing her hands at having nothing to do now. Maybe she’ll travel, or take up a hobby. Join some committees. I don’t picture a slightly chaotic kitchen, a messy and very busy me who has too much to do and could really make use of the time that’s just been vacated thanks very much. I think I imagined I would just be pleased at the space and time one of them leaving would bring. And proud, and delighted for him, and all of those good things, which I really really am. But that is not all it is.
It’s very weird.
Sorry not to end on a jolly note, but that is how it is this week. I’m a bit adrift, and you can see why I need to indulge in some of the lovely autumnal cossetting you have all been outlining for me. So…please leave me your comments below: what have you noticed/done/eaten this week that felt particularly ‘this week’?
Oh and buy my book! Surely it’s time to start Christmas shopping…? Or at least thinking about it… The Almanac 2024 will take you through the upcoming year in moon phases, seasonal recipes, folklore, gardening and more and you can buy it via the links here.
Ahhh, Lia… I am new here but have been enjoying your weekly updates and the wonderful community. I’m sure the space left by your son’s move to university is felt acutely. I find that as the weather cools and the darkness starts to creep in at the edges of each day I want to gather my family up under piles of blankets and breathe them in. They are with us for such a short time but so it goes that they stretch and grow and leave our nest but not our hearts. Last night, I saw the moon - massive, orange, and warm seemingly suspended in time but when I went out later with the dogs it had risen higher and it’s warm soft glow had been exchanged for a brighter, whiter light. Still beautiful of course, but more distant. I think our children are like that, soft, warm, chubby fingered and then we look again and they are grown - brighter, sharper, moving away from us but still lovely, still loved.
Oh Lia I am adrift too, as I just left my youngest at Uni to return to an empty house. My eyes mist on my morning commute as I watch parents clasping the hands of their little ones, chatting on the way to school and I puzzle at how fast the time has gone. No need to add this to the weekly poem, just wanted you to know you are not alone! However the terms are very short and soon there are bags of stuff and washing returning and filling the house!!