Seasons Of Mists

And mellow fruitfulness, or, as Keats wrote to Reynolds from Winchester his letter dated 22nd of September 1819. 

"How beautiful the season is now. How fine the air -- a temperate sharpness about it. Really, without joking, chaste weather -- Dian skies. I never liked stubble-fields so much as now -- aye, better than chilly green of the Spring. Somehow, a stubble plain looks warm, in the same way that some pictures look warm. This struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it." 

Suggesting that this was when perhaps he wrote his Ode To Autumn.

My struggle with the end of Summer is tempered by the gentle days of September.  Days filled with a unique light, wrapping my world in a hazy golden gauze, scenting the air with soft sea breezes, dark ripe berries dripping from hedges and a touch of wood smoke hanging in the air.

Much as I mourn the end of long summer nights, early sunrises and the feel of hot sun on my bare shoulders I am filled with energy and enthusiasm for the positive bounty of fruit that Autumn brings.

SD and I spent many hours picking plums on several occasions over the past few weeks and even then we barely made an impression on the old plum tree which seems to be having a final hurrah, every bough groaning under the weight and the path scattered with fallen fruit.

Altogether we picked around 15lb of plums (that's roughly 7kg in new money) about half of which is now in my freezer and the other half I made into jam

The apples on the Bramley tree have been dropping early for some reason, maybe the perfect weather conditions mean they have ripened early, I'm not sure but I picked up some windfalls the other day and wandered along the hedge in the field nearest to the farm and picked a few blackberries to go with them.

Just enough to make a couple of blackberry and apple crumbles, one for Big D and the lovely L and one for SD's parents.  The real blackberry picking is yet to come and I'm keeping my fingers crossed for dry weather (which is forecast) this week so I can spend a couple of evenings getting scratched to pieces as I try to reach the biggest and the best of the fruit which is always just out of reach.

I love this time where the end of summer blends effortlessly into the beginning of Autumn.  The days may be drawing in, the evenings a little chilly but there is still plenty of sunshine to be had and moments where we drop everything and take off for the beach.  Yesterday that meant a trip to Charmouth in west Dorset which forms part of the Jurassic coast where we strolled along the beach to the Soft Rock Cafe and sat drinking coffee looking out to sea:

It also meant a wander around the tiny Rock Follies shop right on the beach which is filled with vintage clothes, a rack of canvas shoes in 'converse corner' and, amongst other things,  this:

Absolutely, I concur  :-)

I don't want the summer to be over but I just can't bring myself to regret September.