Ginger dead men and minted hotpot

What a positively exhausting day it has been dear readers, exhausting. My male guardian did rise early and took the carriage to tend to the sick as his work requires. My lady guardian took the opportunity to catch up with the many tasks that ensure the smooth running of our little estate. Firstly however, clad in sturdy wellingtons, she did pay her respects to my darling brother; flowers refreshed and a morning cup of tea partaken whilst enjoying fond memories. Thereafter, seized by the brisk nature of the weather and clear autumn sky, laundry flapped upon the washing line, floors swept, and perhaps the most joyous task of the day undertaken, the making of ginger dead men in preparation for All Hallows' eve. Why our dear home was redolent with the spicy and warming aroma of baking, so tantalising. Once cooled the joyous task of icing little skeletons upon the biscuits began. The simple pleasure this did elicit and much fun too. All left to set whilst a most warming of dishes, minted hotpot, was prepared. Not only is this dish tasty and nutritious, but also excellent in preparation for a late return tomorrow evening, for sufficient is prepared for two days suppers. My lady guardian does declare that the second serving is all the more tasty for being a day old. A most comforting dish, my dears, for dusk did fall at five o'clock this day, with drapes drawn and lanterns lit to prepare the home for my male guardians return. 

Autumnal splendour.

Well, dear friends, are we not quite the most fortunate of people? The countryside has been transformed in to the most beguiling of paintings on our very own doorstep. The dazzling array of colours that greets one as we pull back the drapes these last last few mornings has been most becoming. The fields have been ploughed and the Autumn rain this very morn has turned the fields into sections of piped and glistening chocolate as the warm sun caresses them. Each field is bordered by country hedges that present a spectrum of colours through deepest glistening green of the holly leaf, and yellows, orange, gold and red of beech, field maple and more, with accents of red, black and burgundy from holly berries, sloes and the finest of blackberries.  If one is lucky, one can still squirrel out the odd filbert. Huge tree tunnels present frames for breathtaking countryside vistas that are peaceful and calming. Autumn winds blow and the somnambulant summer is chased further away. Pheasants abound along country lanes and great care is required when outward bound in the carriage.

My lady guardian, with her sister, did take the carriage this very morning, bound for a most delightful small town on Exmoor; small but perfectly formed with quite the right balance of artisan and necessary establishments to make it thus self sufficient. A most enjoyable morning was had with the journey outward and homeward bound admired by each sister, country dwellers both. My lady guardian finds the English country side beauteous and calming, sanctuary from the hurly burly of every day life.

As we write this missive, the sun is disappearing behind the landscape, chasing shadows across the fields; the air begins to cool and we are preparing for the freshness of the night to creep in as the shadows lengthen. The end of British summer time and the clocks fall back one hour this night. The joy of an extra hour's rest ensconced in a warm and comfortable bed, the breeze through the window redolent of log fires and Autumn. We are blessed indeed with these simple pleasures.

Dear to my brother's heart....

Dear to my brother's heart were warmth, comfort and regular meals. Our small family of three have kept true to his maxim by beginning the preparations for autumn and winter. The larder is full of the gardens bounteous produce in the form of pickles, preserves and jams; the process of making sloe gin has begun, the cold box in the garage has been packed with the most delicious of concoctions, as well as a glut of pears, some apples and more. The chimney is swept in preparation, all manner of laundering undertaken and the last few days of truly warm weather allowed to blow its warmth through our home before we begin the slow but steady onslaught of autumn and winter weather. The nights have begun to draw in and the windows are shuttered for the night as early as seven o'clock.

The garden has truly taken on the air of autumn, with early mists and the smell of autumn leaves and bonfires. My guardians have cleared an overgrown bed in the front garden in preparation for newer planting. My brother's grave is beautifully tended and I spend time daily appraising him of our endeavours for I am sure he keeps a watchful eye upon our efforts and, one can only hope, wholeheartedly approves.

Time passes....

Time has passed in the blink of an eye. My heart broken guardians buried my dear brother in a favourite spot in his beloved sanctuary garden where his spirit is free to roam. We are bereft, devoid of his peaceful calm demeanour and comforting presence. His soul mingles with those left behind, to comfort us with memories of happier times. I am lost without him, and find myself waiting in the belief he will appear, only to remember he has gone. Home is where we find our solace and comfort in knowing he is here with us.

My lady guardian firmly believes in the words of Anatole France, "Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened."

My darling brother.....

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
                                           Mary Elizabeth Fry

My darling brother died yesterday in the arms of his beloved lady guardian. He had crept quietly in to her life and wrapped his soul around her heart and head, as I strode wilfully t'ward our male guardian. Oh what sorrow. A gentle, peaceful, more loving gentleman, one could not find. My poor lady guardian is calm but truly devastated, they shared a bond that saw female and feline live as one; where she went, he would follow, as one. Such a chasm that I will endeavour to fill for all of us. 
Goodbye little man, man of peace. Gone but never forgotten.

Here is autumn.....

Well my dears, autumn has announced itself in the most ardent of fashions with the recent spell of inclement weather. The temperature has begun to drop overnight and in the morn one can feel the cool fingers of autumn feeling it's way toward us. The breeze has turned the corner away from us and the wind has taken its place. One can still feel the dying embers of summer but the autumn door is widening. Not yet, dear friends, is it time to light those fires, for there is more to come. The apple harvest has begun and the leaves of our neighbours fine pear tree are turning the most becoming shades to herald the new season.

I am most fortunate to tell you that my beloved brother continues to enjoy his food and the comfort of his warm bed. He still undertakes his perambulation about the sanctuary garden, albeit at a much slower pace and not always every day, some days being better than others. He has become particularly fond of the comfort of closeness to our guardians and thus spends many a night lain across the top of the pillows on which they rest their heads. Here he can feel the warmth and love from them without the risk of a nudge by an errant limb. They, for their part, find great comfort in absorbing the gentlest of purring amidst their slumbers and dreams, as in the words of Shakespeare "such stuff as dreams are made on" and great comfort to all parties. I, for my part, find much joy in absorbing these scenes to store in my memory for eternity. 

Another weekend....

Another weekend and my darling brother holds his own. He has particularly enjoyed the most amazing of summer days today, venturing out to sit with my guardians and I in the sanctuary garden. The bluest of blue skies, with the busy sound of harvest on the air. Here in the sanctuary garden all was calm and peaceful, enjoying the quiet of the day spent with those we love, my male guardian perusing the broadsheets, my female guardian working a woolen garment for the winter months, my brother and I sat with them enjoying the warmth of the sun warming our bones. Truly a delightful day, one such as memories are made of.