On Sunday, Auri wanted to borrow my phone to take photos on her walk with Euan and Scapa.
They shut the road through the woods
The Way Through the Woods by Rudyard Kipling
Seventy years ago.
There is something very satisfying about raking leaves. I always absentmindedly find myself humming Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “This Shirt”, and repeating lines from “A Song of Sherwood” by Alfred Noyes (even if most of the poem is out of season right now).
Oberon, Oberon, rake away the gold,
Rake away the red leaves, roll away the mould,
Rake away the gold leaves, roll away the red,
And wake Will Scarlett from his leafy forest bed.
The pears and plums were the first to fall (only a hardy few hanging on), followed by the apples (half down to date). The larger cherry is turning yellow from the inside out, and falling oh-so-slowly. Only two or three have fallen so far from Osa’s Oak, though the colours are stunning.
I am sure that I picked up the phrase “misty, moisty mornings” from Susan Hill’s “Through the Kitchen Window” many, many moons ago. She was describing those autumn days with mushroom blooming everywhere. It seems fitting for today.
The nights are drawing in, and the dark is lingering longer in the mornings. The trees are a riot of joyous colour, and there is definitely an increasing bite of autumn in the air. Contemplating the turning of the year, this old favourite sprung to mind the other day.
Auri and Euan, sitting on a tree trunk and learning about the importance of dead trees to the woodland ecosystem.
It is the last day of summer. Our larger cherry tree has one yellow leaf, right in the middle. Aside from a few tinged edges, all the rest are still vibrant green.
It was so still in the woods this morning. Not eerie-still, just peaceful-still. We made it back just before another gentle rain shower.
Apple-picking season has begun!
