Keats’ ‘gathering swallows twittering in the skies‘ have gone and last week I heard the plaintive call of a chiff chaff, a sign that other migrants are on their way back south, to warmer climes. We’re left alone to contemplate with the sad autumnal song of ‘the redbreast whistling from a garden croft’. We feel we’ve been watching summer’s ‘soft dying day‘. Continue reading “Michaelmas – angels unawares”
The landscape has turned from green to the gold of harvest and ‘barbarous in beauty’ reveals glories unnoticed before, bringing forth one man’s rapturous response. Continue reading “Harvest Rapture”
The late summer sunshine, with its ‘gold complexion’ un-dimmed, is causing my front garden to positively ‘sizzle’ in a blaze of glory just now. Come and see.
Like Alice’s Wonderland bottle labelled ‘Drink me’, this inviting style seems to say ‘Step over me and explore’. Beyond, off the beaten track, adventure beckons.
A Listening Heart 