Slowly September
Somehow September seems to drifting slowly, like the fading leaves which are drifting from the trees all around, a sort of autumnal version of the most gentle of snowstorms.
A month that started off so horribly grey, dark and wet has also thrown us some of the most beautiful September days I can remember. Last weekend we were outdoors for every precious moment, lunch eaten in warm sunshine and by 4pm that slight underlying chill giving us the perfect excuse to light the chiminea and toast marshmallows for desert.
September has been a busy month for us, the new school year, already that first day seems so long ago. The Technical Advisor had a birthday and we celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary this week too. These events have taken place alongside many other things, those stresses and obstacles that land in our way every so often have been plentiful this month. It has been a very mixed month, so trying in places, but yet I will be sorry to see it go. As I write now I my eye is drawn to the window, the golds and reds, that weakening sunlight still bathing the landscape, every so often a flutter of leaves from the oaks, ash, beech and sycamore which grace my little woodland, then there is that rustle in the air, whispering of season ahead. The rustles are regularly punctuated by a loud crack of acorns landing on the corrugated tin roofs of some old kennels. Those cracks take me by surprise each year, they sound like gunshot, too early in the season and too darned close for comfort, I laugh with relief each time I realise it's only the acorns. I think they take the Springer Spaniel by surprise too, her ears prick, made eager by the thought of work, not the Setter, she knows it's not gunshot, it doesn't make her shake to the bone and send her hiding under the table, no working life for her, but rather to sit on the sofa and help with the knitting.
Ah yes, the knitting, September really is a happy month for knitters, my Habu kit is drawing to a close and I am eager to be done with it now, my fingers are itching for the feel of wool, I have been swatching, I am dreaming of vibrant, soft but ever so slightly tickleish Shetland wools. I am very taken with the new Rowan Purelife wool and have been swatching with this Sirdar Eco wool, wonderfully woolly, there is even a delightful lingering smell of sheep (in a good way I assure you) and rather good value.
The kettle is whistling, I am off to drink tea in the garden, inhaling distant woodsmoke, listening to the rustles (and the cracks), flicking through a knitting book or two, waiting for the chutney which is simmering on top of the stove to reach its conclusion. You're all very welcome to join me on this perfect September day.
Somehow September seems to drifting slowly, like the fading leaves which are drifting from the trees all around, a sort of autumnal version of the most gentle of snowstorms.
A month that started off so horribly grey, dark and wet has also thrown us some of the most beautiful September days I can remember. Last weekend we were outdoors for every precious moment, lunch eaten in warm sunshine and by 4pm that slight underlying chill giving us the perfect excuse to light the chiminea and toast marshmallows for desert.
September has been a busy month for us, the new school year, already that first day seems so long ago. The Technical Advisor had a birthday and we celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary this week too. These events have taken place alongside many other things, those stresses and obstacles that land in our way every so often have been plentiful this month. It has been a very mixed month, so trying in places, but yet I will be sorry to see it go. As I write now I my eye is drawn to the window, the golds and reds, that weakening sunlight still bathing the landscape, every so often a flutter of leaves from the oaks, ash, beech and sycamore which grace my little woodland, then there is that rustle in the air, whispering of season ahead. The rustles are regularly punctuated by a loud crack of acorns landing on the corrugated tin roofs of some old kennels. Those cracks take me by surprise each year, they sound like gunshot, too early in the season and too darned close for comfort, I laugh with relief each time I realise it's only the acorns. I think they take the Springer Spaniel by surprise too, her ears prick, made eager by the thought of work, not the Setter, she knows it's not gunshot, it doesn't make her shake to the bone and send her hiding under the table, no working life for her, but rather to sit on the sofa and help with the knitting.
Ah yes, the knitting, September really is a happy month for knitters, my Habu kit is drawing to a close and I am eager to be done with it now, my fingers are itching for the feel of wool, I have been swatching, I am dreaming of vibrant, soft but ever so slightly tickleish Shetland wools. I am very taken with the new Rowan Purelife wool and have been swatching with this Sirdar Eco wool, wonderfully woolly, there is even a delightful lingering smell of sheep (in a good way I assure you) and rather good value.
The kettle is whistling, I am off to drink tea in the garden, inhaling distant woodsmoke, listening to the rustles (and the cracks), flicking through a knitting book or two, waiting for the chutney which is simmering on top of the stove to reach its conclusion. You're all very welcome to join me on this perfect September day.
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