"Harvest is finished and summer has gone"
But, you know, I am just fine with that. Here in the rainy North, we said our goodbyes to summer many moons ago. If truth be known, in June, really.
And so I am quite content now to don my boots. Immeasurably more comfortable than flipflops!
I am yearning to buy school supplies. Shopping lists for 'bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils', notepads and first blue, little sweatshirts and grey trousers. Lunch box, book bags and name tags.
I am eyeballing dresses in wool, tartan and tweed. Creating birthday wish lists of soft, soft knitwear in muted dove greys, misty blues and heather mauve. Bliss.
And I am filling my freezer with boxes of frozen summer berries.
I have said it before, but I shall say it again, there is something comforting, secure, soothing with a hint of gentle smugness, in bringing in a glut and storing it away.
Freezing berries, making jam, clear fragrant Elderflower cordials,
dousing and bottling blackcurrants in Vodka for that homemade Christmas Kir Royal.
Perhaps this is why I am calmly accepting, welcoming of a change of season. I feel I have bottled quite simply the best bits of an English summer.
I will still smell flowery hedgerows, with a splash of cordial added to an evening drink.
I will add a a swirl of deepest purple, a bite of berry lusciousness to my autumn porrigdy breakfast. I will make piece and jam for my small folk, with a jar of sunsoaked sweetness.
|“Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night..."|