We dream of an autumn like the above picture this year. With blazing woods of gold, of children scuffing through piles of crunchy leaves collecting conkers. But who was St Luke?
Continue reading “Autumn’s ‘St Luke’s Little Summer’”
September 21st and into Autumn. It would not be complete without John Keats’s Ode. True to form our garden is into some mellow fruitfulness.
Continue reading “Into Autumn with John Keats”
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”
A Listening Heart 