Sunday, 9 October 2011


Time slips on, complicated hat has made way on the needles for complicated mittens, while in the past few days I have been enjoying finally being able to wear the complicated hat. When I finished it we were in the middle of our intense Indian summer and I had to unearth my sun hat instead. How glorious that was and how cold it felt yesterday by contrast.
Stepping outside today, despite the comparative warmth, there is a definite smell of autumn, of falling leaves and damp lawn and cooling earth and decay. It is the sort of day which inspires me to want to put on some wellingtons and do some digging or other essential autumn job in the garden. If only I had the energy.
Sometimes I regard this slow slipping into winter with dread, all those dark, cold days, but in my saner moments I just take each moment as it comes and watch all its changes and moods. This is a better way I think, it feels calmer. Watch the leaves slowly change, the birds, who all vanished during the heat of the Indian summer, return to use the feeders so lovingly set up for them, wash and drink in the bird bath and chatter and preen in the bushes, hopping around the branches of the big holly as though it were a green stair case, up and down, up and down. Watch a robin sitting apparently doing nothing, looking casually about him before diving to the ground for some grub smaller than I can see.

That robin is delightful, he always comes down when I am outside to see what I'm up to. I'll look up from my magazine or book, having heard the flutter of wings, to see him sitting on a branch two feet away watching me. I love the look of triumph in his eye when he has a particularly juicy worm or a good berry, a look that says "this is mine, back off". The blackbirds are just the same.
These trees were so golden, lit up by the sun, I half expected Aeneas to turn up, guided by doves, for his golden bough.

In between there have been blacker moods and darker times, part of chronic illness I suppose. But I am writing this almost to prove to myself that it hasn't all been bad. And time slips on, flowing past, while I nap and knit and watch.