“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops – at all -
by William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
This poem of Yeats is so very lovely, and just spoke to me today. I hope you are finding peace wherever you are.
Posted in Food, Holidays, Just for fun, Poetry, tagged Havoc on Halloween, Illinois pumpkin producer, Jack-o-Lantern Tea Loaf, Jack-o-Lanterns, John Greenleaf Whittier, pumpkin bread, Pumpkin patches, Soup & Me by Robert Newton Peck, The Pumpkin by John Greenleaf Whittier on Friday, October 10, 2014 | 18 Comments »
Addendum to today’s post – I just saw a notification from WordPress that today is my 5th anniversary in blogging. :) Wow! Thanks to each and every one of you for traveling along the Cutoff with me; reading, commenting, encouraging, laughing, crying . . . You make it fun and meaningful for me. Penny
The days are closing in now, here on the Cutoff. The air is crisp, the colors sharp. Leaves carpet the ground, stuff the eaves, and decorate the tops of cars as the trees bare their souls in anticipation for the winter to come.
We have days of heat and humidity still, but, more and more days of refreshing, cooler temperatures. The night air carries brisk breezes as the crickets correspond in the moonlight and the frogs keep up their low, liquid stream of primal conversations.
The other day, late afternoon, as dinner warmed in the oven, I spent an hour attending to potted plants that were spent of their summer splendor, sweeping leaves off the deck.The leaves, dear friend, filled a large trash can and end up in the compost pile. The deck looked neat and welcoming as we sat down to dinner inside. As we ate, we could hear the wind kick up. A pot was blown over, the trees scraped the air and anything else in their way. A few, caught in filaments of spider webs, flitted like butterflies as the temperature fell a good 20 degrees in about as many minutes.
As to the deck, well, it looks like it did – before I cleaned it.
Lamps and overhead lights come on earlier as darkness creeps in sooner each day. It is a time for candles and hot cider, soups and corn bread. It is, after all, sweet Autumn.
I love the changes in colors and the mellowing of the landscape that evolves in this season. There is a heady fragrance that permeates the air. Just yesterday, I kept telling my Tom that I was smelling maple syrup. I am wondering now if it isn’t the coverlet of sycamore leaves that are bunched up after their night of tossing and turning just outside of the back door. The leaves have a faint maple scent. Oh, dear; I now have a craving for waffles, made in my mother’s waffle maker; an even more aged antique than me.
Such it is with Autumn and me; we seem to have a relationship that conjures up memories and heightens senses as it kisses me with all her splendor.
Do you enjoy Autumn? Do you have a favorite season? For those of you where spring is coming, how are your days and nights?
The Egret by Mary Oliver
the little fish
and the green
and spotted frogs
the egret’s bamboo legs
from the thin
and polished reeds
at the edge
of the silky world
in their last inch of time,
for an instant,
the white froth
of her shoulders,
and the white scrolls
of her belly,
and the white flame
of her head.
What more can you say
about such wild swimmers?
They were here,
they were silent,
they are gone, having tasted
Therefore I have invented words
with which to stand back
on the weedy shore—
with which to say:
What is this dark death
like a white door?
"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." William Wordsworth
A blog for visitors to the Garden.
Circles of Life: My professional background in Foods and Nutrition (MS, Registered and Licensed Dietitian Nutritionist, RDN, LDN) provides the background for my personal interests in nutrition, foods and cooking; health and wellness; environment and sustainability.
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