Dark and cloudy this campervan morning. There is moisture on the air, just discernible on the vaguest of breezes. Droplets fall from the Oak and the sound is that of cars slushing through overnight puddles. Blackbird song once more accompanies the far off commuter drone, a few distant Crows make themselves known. It feels like a dark, damp, slushy start to the day. Walking around yesterday there was more a sense of being in the thralls of autumn rather than winter and being surrounded by ‘September Trees’, the writer Jim Bishop writes beautifully that :
“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
He makes a glorious observation. I sense that being on the threshold of December and what was once the chill of winter, I dive into books, poetry and songs around that season Katherine May’s ‘Wintering’ once more, Winter’ edited by Melissa Harrison, the amazing Horatio Clare and ‘The Light in the Dark’ ( Perhaps not for the feint hearted ) and of course my favourite which is the story of renewal embodied in my regular winter read of ‘A Christmas Carol’. I love this time of year, an opportunity to read like no one is watching, but as I say it feels a little premature to dive as I am surrounded by’ September Trees’. I actually don’t think we have had two frosts strung together yet. So anticipation is my watchword, though I start Christmas Carol on the 1st December regardless of the weather. Lovely days people.
“ I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion.” Henry David Thoreau
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