When the sun sets tonight in the Northern Hemisphere night will last slightly longer than day. In the Southern Hemisphere day will now last longer than night. In six months time the tables will be turned as North heads back to spring and South to autumn.
Mists and mellow fruitfulness is the phrase from a poem I always think of. Finding mushrooms in the garden, seeing Robins looking for food, seeing the leaves change. Already there are tinges of red and yellow on the bigger trees, I think because, being higher up, their leaves feel the chill first. Driving up the local hill you see more changes. Presumably the trees on the lower slopes are more protected. Perhaps its a micro climate?
In a few months it will be winter. I’m hoping things don’t get too cold. But maybe I should hope for cold to cool the climate?
Happy Autumn Equinox.
Like a napping cat staring bleary eyed into the dawn, I’m awake. I don’t want to be. There is a slight chill in the living room and I’m thinking of snuggling back in bed. To sleep, to not worry about today, who will come to my show? Are enough people interested?
Nerves, that’s what it is. The anxiety in the pit of your stomach. Collywobbles, butterflies, slight palpatations.
Nothing to worry about, I tell myself. Worrying never got anything done, I think. Life’s too short, I mutter under my breath.
So decisions, another decaff coffee or sleep, I know what I will do…..
Branches and limbs thinning and curving
Straggling twigs like fly away hair.
Skeletal, swooping and sweeping
Black trunk against white clouds.
Old birds nest up high
A roost for a crow?
Like an old venous or arterial system
Your juices are not flowing now
Sclerotic and tired
Can you be rejuvenated
Will your sap rise again?
Are buds hidden,
Waiting to burst-
Stay a while and see
Wait out the winter
Then explode like a firework blooming in light.
Blue and cold, chill my bones,
Snow falls sifted like icing sugar.
Whorls of wind taking heat away.
to where? Icy fingertips frosted nose,
Ankles and feet lumped with shivers,
Cooled heels , cold arms, breath softly turned to cold fog.
Heating is on but not making a dent in the chilly room.
Yesterday was glorious, brilliant, sunny.
Now I need thermal clothes to encapsulate me.
It may not warm till spring, when suns return heralds warmth.
Till then, head down, under duvet, I try and stay warm.
Winter begins in Autumns arms.