Season of mists and mellow whatnots

The first storm of Autumn has more or less blown itself out. Apples cascade from the trees and the task of using the windfalls clashes, as usual, with an overfull freezer and a busy diary. I spent a wonderful couple of hours wandering the lanes (on my birthday) in solitary peace and quiet, blackberry basket upon my arm and a wrist devoid of wrist-watch – a perfect detachment from time and the pressures of the daily round. It was one of those glorious September afternoons, replete with sunshine and with just a hint of the fragility of the season. Don’t things seem more valuable when they are ephemeral? I think so, anyway – and a birthday is a time for quiet reflection and memories of past years and people now dead, but not forgotten.
Since then I have had my head deep in dusty tomes on the history of banking and cuttings from ancient newspapers in blurred and distorted fonts. Which reminds me, I must get my new glasses sorted out – it’s either that or take out shares in a paracetamol company!
But all this is prevarication – I must away and lock myself in a garret somewhere, so that The Book gets written.
Farewell dear friends and hello chill draughts and woolly jumpers!


About apthomas

I love books, reading, writing, baking, chocolate, painting, sewing, people and fairtrade - not necessarily in that order. I am a lazy gardener - who loves the garden, and a lazy housewife who likes the place to be warm and welcoming. I live in beautiful Somerset. I am enslaved by Sherpa-the-cat. Saturday mornings find me 'playing shop' in the Honey Pot - a second hand bookshop, run from my garage, where along with the books you'll find fun, friendship and refreshments - all in a good cause.
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One Response to Season of mists and mellow whatnots

  1. Susan in TX says:

    Sounds like a wonderful birthday afternoon! Happy writing to you.

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