Friday 27 August 2010

                        
As I looked out at the eastern sky this morning, covered in dramatic glare-rimmed grey clouds, I remembered a story I heard  about how the seafarers of an island nation could once read the most subtle of information from the ocean churl and know what the weather was like back home many miles away.  I know the clouds can be read that way, too,  and I wonder why so much ancient knowledge had to be forfeited for modern life...then, I went for my walk.

                                                                              

You wouldn't believe the amount of crows that are gathering in the woods as I write.  At first I thought 30, then more like 50, cawing in their excitement at being together.  Usually one only sees family groups of  5, 8 or 10.   Last evening I stopped serving supper to grab the camera and take pictures of the wild turkeys on the lawn, a large tom and 10 hens when, as we ate, another group with several toms and hens joined the first group.  I was seriously excited.



There is a distinct smell of autumn in the air even though only a few leaves have fallen as yet.   Is it the black willow or the goldenrod?   The few blackberries that remain have lost their sweetness;  perhaps the last 2 cold nights wore them out.  But the garden is bursting with goodness:  pole beans and zucchinis and red and black tomatoes, not to mention my favourite, the most sweetly succulent grape tomatoes.



Just look at that energy coming off these babies!


Yesterday I ventured out into the forest, something I rarely do alone, with our old dog.   I had wandered off our road the day before and seen a varied lot of mushrooms, so I shouldn't have been surprised to see so many more. 












And I have many more shots.  I don't dare touch any of these, not knowing which is safe - for their own sake or mine.  But they were everywhere.



It amazed me to see so many old trees down, but that, after all, is the way of nature.  And so, naturally, one will find new life growing out of the old.



This is a wistful time for me: late summer. Thus begins the end of this season with all its bounty as we come into the glory of autumn with an inherent sense of gratitude for the earth's generosity.

Thank you


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