simple Autumnal pleasures...
apples baking
their lingering sweet musk steeping
the house in hearth warmth
and memories
that wrap a soul in cotton dishcloth
place it close to it's kin
in thin wicker baskets brimming
anticipation...
to make:
core some whole apples. place them in a baking pan filled to about a centimeter with water. Put half a teaspoon of honey and half a teaspoon of butter inside the cored centers then sprinkle with a little cinnamon. Place in a hot oven till the skins have burst and the fruit is soft.
Perfect served on it's own as a warming Autumn tea time treat or with a scoop of ice-cream for pudding.
Even the fading blooms bring their own fragrance, their own beauty, their own wisdom.
Some others speak memories of summer.
The little garden spiders, each one named and known by my little girls, just keep spinning, spinning, spinning. A silent world of life within a world of life.
and the leaves from the sycamore just keep falling.
one
by
one.
faint
mute
swelling with a secret
spring,
glowing gold within
their fragile skin.
..and speaking of autumn... here is a lovely little autumnal poem by one of this years national trust competition winners...
enjoy :)
Untitled
By Emma Lister
“It’s really something” -
standing out of the sunroof,
we are not dead yet.
In November, we’ve valleys,
houses leaning, nestled
among those fields
outlined in hedgerows -
and the trees are wet under
miserable sky.
Grow tall, leaves. Unfold.
Bring a cowlick of summer -
with meadows, poppies -
When you lie back down,
the grass curls over your face
and there’s a heavy
bee; autumn is kind
to him. The water in springs
tastes like last winter.