Blog Post No. 8
The days are getting shorter.
You know it’s that time of year when you need to start wearing thick socks and long legs of an evening just to stop spiders or more accurately, small dog eating tarantulas, crawling around your bare ankles and feet. Long gone are the days of flip flops, sandals and bare legs. From tomorrow no longer am I stepping out in my comfy and casual, yes I am going to admit it to you Croc despising people that, I love my Croc flip flops! They are so ergonomic and they are pretty and fairly plain light pink and white. I know, I know I hear endless scornful remarks about Crocs being a hideous fashion faux pas but I do not care, I am far from a chav and I don’t wear as a fashion statement but to give my feet the comfort they deserve. You see my Great-Great-Grandmother used to say and I quote; “If you only buy two good things in your life, buy a good bed and a good pair of comfortable shoes because if you’re not in one you’re bound to be in the other.” Due to last night’s spider incident I have opted to wear only toe covering footwear to avoid future spiders-on-steroids crossing my feet like they are a footbridge.
The days are getting shorter and the nights are drawing in. It’s getting darker earlier and earlier each day. I don’t know why we are shocked by this, as the same thing happens every year. I don’t know if it’s just me but each year at this time I always find it strange and ever so slightly unusual.
The evenings are also becoming ever cooler. During the day the sun is still bright and there is the last warmth of the summer sun drifting through the air but come evening when the sun has disappeared until the morrow it gets a little chilly. Large woven throws and fleece blankets are a must when sat in front of the box of an eve.
That eerie chill reminds us that winter is only around the corner and Christmas is just on the horizon. Aaaargh!
Summer is but a fond memory and September 21st brings with it the start of autumn is settling its boots by the fire. So here’s to welcoming autumn with open arms as it’s not all bad really. Autumn brings out my inner Betty Crocker and conjures up recipes of pumpkin pie, apple crumble and butternut squash and brown rice risotto.
I like to make autumn crafts with the kids, from collages made from leaves to handmade chocolate leaves to decorate home-baked cupcakes.
Autumn can be lovely, not just a stop-gap between a glorious summer and a festive winter. Embrace the autumn months and all it has to offer.
Bonfire night is awaited with eager anticipation and the excitement is set to simmer until ‘All Hallows Eve’ has come and gone again. No matter how old I get I will always enjoy Halloween. Dressing up in a ghastly way and decorating the house with plastic spiders and faux cobwebs, carving pumpkins into jack o’ lanterns and enough candy to fill a bouncy castle such fun.
Then comes Bonfire night arrives and you are filled to the brim with homemade treacle-toffee and potato-pie, toffee apples and baked potatoes, you all gather together as friends and family round a giant handmade fiery glow. You have your hats and scarves and have dug out your gloves and you are wrapped up warm to bare the cold night air to hoover round the bonfire. Fireworks are a treat and the little ones are supervised with sparklers all is brimming with excitement.
A final thought; get your conkers out! Recent press has reported on the banning of conkers in schools. When we were kids we played conkers it was a ritual at this time of year to go out conker hunting. No one I know, nor does anyone I’ve asked know anyone who has been harmed by a conker! I say playing conkers is part of growing up! Don’t you?!
-Mrs N x
Autumn reminds me of a popular poem by John Keats….
John Keats - To Autumn
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.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.