Just "doing"....

Well, my dears, the last week has seen a respite from our professional toil but has not seen a respite from "doing", for there has been much to be done and, thankfully, we are reaching an end. The library has been well and truly sorted; the old favourites dusted down and repositioned, those given but not quite to one's taste repurposed and a general lightening of the groaning shelves, floor and, indeed, any surface overwhelmed by many years of avid reading. No book has gone to waste and our chosen local charity has benefitted threefold for that is the number of trips did take of the carriage to restore order. Thankfully, both the male guardian and I are of the same mind when it comes to books; no bent spines, no folded pages, dust free and always a bookmark to hand (be it, on occasions, a hastily torn snippet from a discarded periodical). Whilst it is indeed sad to be saying farewell to quite so many, it gives great pleasure to know that they will be read and enjoyed by others, plus go tward benefitting the charity's work. 

The materials have finally been chosen for the soft furnishings to cover the windows in one's bedchamber and the upper hallway and work commenced to complete them. A most delightful position to be in. The house is lighter, less cluttered and generally has space to breath after a year of sorting and "doing". Oh, how wonderful it does feel and most definitely worth the upheaval.

Tomorrow, sees the first day of  December when I am sure many a door will be eagerly opened in the run up to the festive season. Thoughts have turned to the celebratory meal and provisions checked to ensure an enjoyable but modest meal will be partaken. Once again, one will endeavour to attend the Carols in the Cowshed, professional toil allowing, for is a most enjoyable and heart warming service to remind one of the important things in life. 

Frost Moon

Well, dear souls, quite the stunning sight did I feast my eyes upon as I left my place of toil this very evening. For there, hung just upon the skyline was the most gorgeous of frost moons. Initially, appearing orange of hue, it faded to a silvery orb, complete with glistening aura, climbing high within the sky as I strode  t'ward my carriage, homeward bound. Oh the joy of such natural splendour really is quite something to behold. The air has a frosty demeanour, spiralling forth both morn and night as one ventures briskly forth. Autumn has fast begun to make way for Winter now and the landscape is once more changing with leaves of jewel bright colours a plenty upon the ground as I traverse daily, crunching through their frost laden midsts each morn, my arrival punctuated with a crisp and brittle herald. The berry laden hedges busy with chattering birds eating their fill as they hop between branches, chattering angrily at each other lest a tasty morsel be snapped from within their reach for the race is on for the survival of the fittest through our harshest season. Pheasants are abound, their raucous cries echoing across the fields and comical gate as they dart across lanes, followed by the thunderous beat of wings as they take flight, their plumage glistening as the fading rays of sun catches them. Their is much to admire and feast ones eyes upon should you be fortunate to venture forth at sunrise and before sunset in our glorious countryside, my dears.

Relishing autumn

Dear souls, 'tas been frosty these last few mornings, with fresh crisp air in which to take my morning walk to work. The simple joy this affords one really is quite hard to describe. Clear blue skies, frost encrusted scenery and plumes of white breath streaming a'fore me on my brisk journey to and fro.
A cooler climate is more suited to one's Celtic colouring. As the sun rises above the horizon, golden fire bright rays caress the land that sparkles with a million diamond facets of frost, glimmering on a sea of mellow greens, gold, browns and reds. 'Tis the land that I love and warms my heart to gaze out upon it in all it's autumn glory. Jewel bright berries are scattered through the hedgerows, skeleton seed heads standing to ghostly attention in fields and verges. Bleak, yet glorious in its suit of many changing colours, marching as it does t'ward winter. The air is sprinkled with the earthy smells of the soil, fallen leaves and fires both garden and home, spicing the air. Oh Autumn.

The clocks have turned back and all Hallows' eve have come and gone. Guys Fawkes or Bonfire night stands primed on the edge of the stage for the performance on Monday. My dears, the year fair dashes t'ward its climax. Tempts fugit as one has oft said. The language of the homemaker is all in this season of mellow fruitfulness, harvest time, "hygge" or now "coorie" from the Scottish line. Not matters where the origin emerges, for most country folk are enamoured of the gathering and preparing for a warm and cosy autumn/winter season. The log sheds are full to bursting, the larder crammed with produce, the home primed for whatever weather is to come our way through autumn on to winter, hunkering down for the onslaught. Dear souls, we are prepared and one enjoys one's favourite season with time spent in honest toil and exercise spent in our blessed countryside, where my heart belongs. Long walks, garden toil, so good for body and soul with a warm home in which to repose at the end of each day, a silent prayer for the joy in the simple pleasures of life we enjoy.