Sunshine on a Rainy Day

The sunflowers bring a little bit of sushine on a day that is more like Autumn than Summer.

The laundry is drying inside, warmer clothes have been fished out of drawers and warming onion soup has been made for lunch; this evening the heating has been switched on. It seems ages, although only a few days, since we were walking on Crosby Beach in the sunshine.
Where has Summer gone?

(Edit 20/7/09 - I've just realised that I made it sound as if our heating had been switched on indefinitely when it was really just for an hour to take off the chill caused by the rain and to dry out wet clothes etc. This morning the sun is shining again with only the wet garden to give any clues as to yesterday's deluge.)

The End of August

I don't know why but a great wistfulness always overwhelmes me at the end of August; it seems like the end of something important, something special. Maybe these feelings are influenced by the fact that I've just become a year older, if not wiser and also because I chide myself for not fully appreciating and utilising all that summer has to offer. This year, as last, we haven't really had a proper summer, those long remembered summers of childhood and youth, of day after day of warm sumshine, of late light nights and warm early mornings are now just a distant memory; but surely I could have done more with the one we had? I wandered around the garden this morning and already it is completely autumnal; the air is misty and heavy with damp, little droplets of moisture soaking me through, but it wasn't rain, it was too gentle for rain. The unmown grass was wet, soaking into my shoes making my toes feel cold and damp and leaving tide marks on the soft leather. The delicate cobwebs glistened in the bushes drifting across the paths and I had to be on constant spider alert. For the last two days we have had a pair of buzzards circling overhead, thermaling in the hot air and calling to each other with their eery, mewling cry. Today they have moved on. I always know when the sedum flowers start to turn pink that it really is the end of summer and I drift unconsciously into a few days of listlessness and dissatisfied longing. Then, like the buzzards, I move on, hoping for dry autumn days, when trees are full of colour, hedgerows are full of plenty and all is safely gathered in. Then, and only then, can I fully appreciate the last, lingering beauty of it all.

In the meantime, on a more practical and cheerful note, I do have help with the laundry.

Farewell Summer

As soon as I see the bindweed flowers engulfing the roadside hedgerows I know that summer is almost over.

The flowers are so pretty and delicate and somehow have an ethereal quality that makes me dwell on the passage of time and the changing of seasons.

Perhaps it is also because my birthday falls at this time of year - it was, in fact, yesterday - and with each passing year I'm conscious that I've already lived - if I'm lucky enough to reach the three score years and ten - just over two thirds of my life and I've no idea where most of it has gone. I always find the end of summer extremely sad almost like saying goodbye to someone dear to me and this year it seems worse as we really have had little in the way of summer to cheer us and to warm and strengthen us to face the winter months. The mornings now have that vaguely autumnal nip in the air and I'm aware that things around me are changing. Change of seasons this year means a change of lifestyle for Paul and I as our plans for selling up, downsizing and ridding ourselves of the mortgage are put into action it may take a while but it will happen and I know it will take time to get used to the idea and to let go of the many things I have found here. In the meantime I'm going to enjoy the last vestiges of summer and try to be positive about whatever the future may hold.