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May 2019



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Autumn leaves


Do you not enjoy summer as much as you feel you ought to? You are not alone. I’ve just finished The Shell Seekers, a lovely fat read. That book is full of glorious summer days but does include these lines from Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice:
September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace.

In her latest newsletter Countess Ablaze (knitting and classics!) writes:
‘Sitting outdoors with a glass of your favourite tipple with the birdsong in your ear as the sun blazing down (sic). Maybe that is your ideal summer's day.

Mine is sat on the floor of a cold shower waiting for summer to go away. Bring on autumn so I can wear those knitted socks that I've strategically knocked up ready.’

Summer or autumn for you?



I like summer as long as the temperature hovers around 23°C max. It's been far too warm of late but a thunderstorm or two today has cooled it down, thankfully.

I prefer Autumn :)
I certainly find 'my vitality leaps' in autumn.

I wish it would rain on my poor garden.


I love summer and would be quite happy having dry weather and temps in the high 70's for the whole summer. 80's is a bit too warm for longer than a week or two and 90s would beat even me.
BUT we need rain for the garden and I don't want to lose all my veg.
Never satisfied
I find my tolerance of heat has decreased with age!

I do hope your veg. give you a good harvest.


I agree with Coleridge who said 'all seasons shall be sweet to thee', but must admit I'm glad the temperature is no longer up in the 80s!
That's a good quote. Each season should come just when we're ready for it and it usually does.
It's been too hot for me, too.
Spring! Always spring, so full of life and hope and the most vibrant colour so that you can almost see it vibrating. And warm days, but also breezes and showers.
'Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.'

Says it all!
I love that poem. Long and lovely and lush... mmmm!
I love Hopkins!