Posts Tagged autumn
I love autumn – it’s my favourite month.
We are having an ‘Indian Summer’ which is just as well as we had what could have been called an ‘Irish Summer’ in July and August. Apologies to Ireland but, you know, it really does rain a lot there.
I love all the beautiful autumn colours and funny things happenning in the sky. This morning, for instance, there was a huge moon in a lilac coloured sky.
One of the things I love about having a hot, sunny autumn is that, no matter how summery it is during the day, in the morning and evening there is a definite ‘nip in the air’ which means you can feel cosy indoors, wear fluffy slippers and drink cocoa, watch t.v. as early as 7.30 p.m. if you want to (as it’s almost dark outside) and sleep at night without resorting to a noisy electric fan or having to leave a window open and let the lizards in. All this, whilst still being able to float around during the day in summer frocks or shorts.
Just off to change out of my swimming cossie into a pair of cosy pull ons, a big baggy sweater and some fluffy socks and see what’s on.
Well, actually, I really, really want to give a fig – lots of them in fact. I’ve got about 4 varieties of fig tree in the garden and, due to the early rain and late heat (probably) we are having a better than usual second crop.
Problem is nobody likes them but me, the chickens and one of the dogs.
The trouble is, I only like them fresh, so I don’t want to make jam or chutney or dry them. Also, you have to pick them when they are completely ripe – I don’t believe they continue ripening once picked – so, to get them when they are really jammy inside, which is the only time they are worth eating in my opinion, you have to compete with the wasps, give up on the ones really high up and gorge yourself all at once.
I think Mr. T. took against them after a couple of summers ago when, on a very hot day, he pruned one of the trees not realising that the sap can be very harmful on the skin. It was a day or so later that he began to itch on his upper arm and it really flared up. He still has the scar. We looked it up on the internet and there were some really scary photographs of a man in Greece who had pruned quite a few trees on a hot day and he was covered in scars.
Off to slice one or two up with some goats cheese for lunch.
The weather wasn’t particularly great this summer but it is certainly making up for it now.
However, it won’t be that long before the home fires are burning again so it was time to get the logs delivered and then, in 32 degrees, stack them all up in the garage.
My dad was visiting and got roped in as a labourer – well, he’s only 82. Mind you, the man who delivers them every year is 84. Must be the mountain air.
Stan thought he’d help out too
‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’ John Keats
Autumn has arrived in the south of France – I know this because the bedroom window had condensation on it this morning.
I love autumn, it’s my favourite month. I love the way that you can have really sunny, warm days but in the evenings it gets a bit nippy and you can feel cosy indoors, maybe with a log fire. The best of both worlds. I have rediscovered the joys of autumn since moving here because the contrast between the seasons is still well defined – as I seem to remember them being when I was a child although, of course, that could just be nostalgia. I was inspired to take my camera with me this morning when I went out with the dogs to see if I could capture that autumnal ‘frisson’.
It’s been very dry here – we’ve hardly had any rain for ages – and the trees are only just starting to turn colour. However, it’s lovely and crisp in the mornings and the dogs prefer it to the heat of the summer.
Anyway, not satisfied with the autumnal ‘frisson’, my normally ultra sensible husband decided to add a bit more excitement to the day by having a small bonfire and then forgetting about it! Our garden is huge but most of it is on a 45o angle and, alerted by a panicked neighbour who could see the smoke from her house, we went out to find that sparks had ignited lots of little pockets of tinder dry grass and, even worse, little pockets of tinder dry grass on our neighbours’ land. Somebody called les pompiers (bless them) and they came and helped us extinguish the smouldering heaps of grass. Not an easy job, halfway up a small foothill of the Pyrennees. I will give them lots of extra euros this Christmas when they come round with their calendars. (I’ll make up for it by giving less to the postman as he is a miserable sod!)
Anyway, great fun was had by all the spectators who seemed to appear from nowhere considering we only have about 3 near neighbours. They came in their cars and gave advice on how to put out the fire, without actually doing anything to help, whilst my husband (feeling extremely stupid and guilty, obviously, because I told him he was), and our two daughters who don’t normally move from in front of a computer screen, scaled the hill with water and tried to beat out the smouldering piles with shovels. My daughters are still recovering, not from smoke inhalation but from exposure to the outside air during the hours of daylight.
The dogs enjoyed themselves with all the uniformed visitors and long lengths of pipe which looked like they might be fun to play with.
Anyway, we won’t be needing the brushcutter for a little while yet.
Also, do you think it’s a coincidence that they came round with their calendars for sale tonight, less than a week after the ‘incident’ in our garden? I’m sure it’s normally a lot closer to Christmas.