October

There's just something about October that makes me want to put the garden to bed, tidy things up around the place, get organized, make bread, eat honeycomb by the spoonful, knit, spin, sew, make jams and fruit butters....is there an internal instinct to survive that which is to come? Maybe, although the sense of urgency is not embroidered into the beckoning. We have picked apples, incorporating the delicious fruit in both sweet and savoury feasts, as well as simply enjoying their crispness along with wonderful cheeses of all moods. Larry bought some cheese back with him last weekend from a retreat up at the other end of the lake, where the monks make delicious cheeses...just the ticket for a sunny fall lunch, alongside a tall glass of Cold Hollow Cider. Here's a jacket, designed by a friend, that I have recently made for that Sapphie Girl, and a cozy sheep hat, the pattern to which I found in Woodstock a couple of weeks ago, on one of our fall exploring days...

There's just something about October...

Did you know...?

Almost home...and there you were with your brother, playing in the road, you poor, silly deer! I saw you, but it didn't help, because there was a long line of cars coming the other way...if you made it, you'll be a little sore tomorrow. Did you know that I tried to miss you? I almost did, didn't I? Do you know that my heart is broken tonight? Did your brother escape? No sign on the road at all afterwards; but a thump, and a dull, sickening ache in my heart are all that remain. I wish I could make you feel better...wish it hadn't happened.

On a hillside in the Autumn, on a warm September night,
Maples flashed their firy plumage, heralding the goose's flight.
Farethee well, deer honkers all, love you dearly, hear your call.

Glacial treasures

And can it be that these green hills have known the depth of glacial chills?

Have felt the slow, determined path of moving ice, and cracking glass?

When did the earth warm just enough to shape the lake, the ridge, the bluff?

And can it be that these green hills can know the joy and sense the thrills

That threaten to o'ertake me now, and leave me with the wonder 'how'?

Ceres - the goddess of vegetation and fruitfulness

Ceres, the goddess of agriculture in Roman mythology, balances precariously atop the gilded dome of Vermont's State Capital, hugging her wheat sheaf. Although, in this photograph, the illustrious deity has been overshadowed by a changing maple leaf! Apologies, dear Ceres, from an inexperienced photographer...

At this time of the year, I become quite domesticated, even fruitful, in my daily 'doings'. Making delicious soups and breads, knitting, jam-making, tidying up the place, all, I suppose, in anticipation of winter's blasts. It's an unwritten beckoning, an instinctive obligation, a 'just in case' feeling. Activities not peculiar to man, when one considers the frantic nut-hoarding of the squirrels in the woods!

And so, dear Ceres, whoever you are, figment of man's imaginings though you be: be pleased today, as this one, together with her squirrel friends, rushes madly about, doing this and that, at a ludicrous attempt to ready her house and home for the coming winter. Goddess of agriculture, vegetation and fruitfulness, we thank your Creator for His abundant blessings in the garden and in the fields, and for His Spirit who inspires us, and for His Son, who gives us life and that more abundantly!

Swan Song in the Meadow

Just look what I found in the meadow this weekend! A splash of floral splendour, that simply could not be left out there in the field for no-one to notice. I gathered them greedily then rushed home to let them drink deeply in my little Simon Pierce vase, almost hidden beneath the maple leaves. Autumn is here, and last night we had a chilling frost. It's time to start knitting and spinning and reading Robert Frost...time for jam-making and apple-picking, time for bread-making and leek and potato soup. Time to fill the house with warmth and provisions, logs and verse, prayer and praise...

Before I Was A Mom - by ?

Before I was a Mom

I never tripped over toys

or forgot words to a lullaby.

I didn't worry whether or not

my plants were poisonous.

I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom

I had never been puked on.

Pooped on.

Chewed on.

Peed on.

I had complete control of my mind

and my thoughts.

I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom

I never held down a screaming child

so doctors could do tests.

Or give shots.

I never looked into teary eyes and cried.

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late hours at night

watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom

I never held a sleeping baby just because

I didn't want to put her down.

I never felt my heart break into a million pieces

when I couldn't stop the hurt.

I never knew that something so small

could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much.

I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom

I didn't know the feeling of

having my heart outside my body.

I didn't know how special it could feel

to feed a hungry baby.

I didn't know that bond

between a mother and her child.

I didn't know that something so small

could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom

I had never gotten up in the middle of the night

every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.

I had never known the warmth,

the joy,

the love,

the heartache,

the wonderment

or the satisfaction of being a Mom.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much,

before I was a Mom.

May you always be overwhelmed by the Grace of God rather than by the cares of life.

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This beautiful poem has touched my heart, so I have included it in the Mossfairy pages to bless others. Thank you so much, Linda, I shall treasure it always.

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