Once perhaps, I would have lazed long in the sun of summer and drank deep the evenings with slow setting suns. Perhaps I would have wandered down the endlessness that sprawls into english countryside, nothing but a fond smile and some bread as I searched for trickling ravines with hidden radiant gems of last light. Leaning back against a worn tree, night standing imperially over the waters, I would allow my thoughts to flow away into eddies and ebbing tide as the sparks from a fire took flight. Such calm.
Now I am looking forward to autumn's warm cloak of embers and russet apples, bloody rose red leaves amidst bracken and the earthy smell of Samhain. I look forward to the food. Oh the food. I am all set for pumpkin carving, baking pasties and brewing virgin mead before spiking it with the belly heat of brandy. Toasty, buttery, spicey, baked and sweet. I look forward to the welcoming of a new year come october, to hopefully being in a catering course and most of all to being happy. The tempting calls of squashes and sweet potatoes with nutmeg and cinammon gets me glowing. Long skirts, the clattering of boot heels on the stairs... poetry. When Autumn comes she will be my sweet muse. And I shall be her poet.
What else is news? To be fair, I have sat around alot, gotten ill and stayed thus. Everyone keeps offering to make me tea and let me rest but stolid as I am to myself, there is little mercy. I continue to housewife around folding clothes here, fetching everyone tea and breakfast, ensuring there's plenty of food ready for tired and hungry workers (or just lazy stoned masses!) and so... Mother Nature has allowed me to make an early start on my winter fat storage. The bitch.
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