Poem

Where we live, at least, real autumn has not yet arrived. Yes, the leaves on the trees are slowly changing colour but the trees are still full of them and the temperatures are unusually warm for this time of the year, sometimes reaching 25º C at midday - no strong north-east winds, no rain...SIGH... It is hard to believe that we are treading on November's doorstep.

Yesterday I hauled 1 1/2 tonnes of firewood up to the woodshed with a hope that one day it might be cold enough to use it!

Here is a lovely poem to end October with. Let's get our imaginations working and pretend...

October

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,

Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—

For the grapes’ sake along the wall.

By Robert Frost