Saturday, September 20, 2008
It was warm and sunny on Friday and I was totally over-dressed when going into the city to meet up with Mr A for lunch. But, by 4pm, when the shadows were lengthening, there was a chill in the air.
When the cats come in from the garden their paws are wet, although there's been no rain this week.
Garden spiders, tiger-striped in black and brown, have hung their webs from the eaves and on the rotary clothes drier.
Autumn is here.
She crept in quietly while I wasn't looking and has touched the garden. The pinks, yellows and blues of summer are fading. Although the hydrangea is still in flower, its leaves are tinged with bronze. The grass needs cutting less.
Everything is slower.
Best I love September's yellow
Morns of dew strung gossamer,
Thoughtful days without a stir;
Rooky clamours, brazen leaves,
Stubble dotted o'er with sheaves-
More than Spring's bright uncontrol
Suit the Autumn of my soul.