" Damsons are ripe in early September,
at a time when the garden paths are festooned with spiderwebs
and the leaves start their slow journey toward gold and bronze.
A time of faint melancholy and mellow scents, of early winter squash, fat pears, and late, spiky dahlias.
At no point in the calendar am I happier.
Damsons mark the point in the year when I start to relax, my shoulders unhunch,
and I can begin to feel the safety of dark nights and damp mornings,
the supreme comfort of a favorite, holey sweater.
Just as so many are saddened at the end of summer,
I feel curiously rejuvenated, my sap rising as others' does in spring."
{Nigel Slater : Ripe }
a summer nears its end
I feel my energy returning
creativity rising to the surface
once again.
these days are cherished...
I want nothing more than to
stand in stillness
watching nature in its ever-slowly
saunter toward autumnal days.
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