Arranged by Mother Nature...

A wild, wet and windy day that brought down a lot of leaves in the garden, but unusually mild for the time of year at 15 degrees. And another yellow warning of heavy rain forecast for us tomorrow as well.

A day spent reminiscing about the longed-for golden Autumn days of Keats, and a day spent reminiscing about what it felt like to be lurgy-free. One step forward, two steps back...


‘To Autumn’ by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells…