Monday 5 October 2009

Mists and mellow fruitfulness...


A cold, creeping mist roiled in front of the dog and I this morning as we descended into the valley on our early morning walk.


The hilltops around were bathed in sunlight but this eerie, dank fug hung around the hollows, enveloping the lower reaches of our walk in a different world entirely.


The temperature dropped by several degrees down there, and the air was still; my ears were ringing in that crystal way I have only ever before noticed during snow.


Spider webs hung draped across the scarlet hawthorn berries and I realised that soon the first frost would be upon us; time for picking the abundance of sloes that festoon the hedgerows like little plums.


I'll be making some sloe gin that will warm me by the fire come Christmas time. And these thoughts prompted me to start collecting firewood on my walks. It's surprising how much you can collect over a couple of weeks, and free fuel is not to be sniffed at in these hard economic times.


I lit the first fire at home this weekend, with great reverence and ceremony, the family gathered round. The children have inherited my love of a good log fire, and stories sitting on the hearth rug are tradition already.


It is starting to feel like the shooting season now.




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