Season of Mist and Mellow Fruitfulness

It's been a lovely autumnal Sunday here in sunny East Yorkshire with wall to wall sunshine, a light breeze, a chill in the air and that unique smell of fallen leaves and dampness. I went for a stroll around the Sunday Market at the Humber Bridge this morning and there are a few more stalls than normal including some craft stalls with gift ideas for the festive season. Visitors were a-plenty.

The two days of bonfire night celebrations have come to an end and the smell of cordite has drifted away on the breeze. For the first time in a few years, I haven't found a spent rocket in the garden.

Keats' poem on autumn with his 'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness...' is evocative of how autumns should feel and is a little romantic, but with nights drawing in and being dark by five, cozy nights in are very enjoyable.

On the way home after a brief visit to the DIY store for some picture hooks, I passed the King George V playing fields in Hessle and saw the low autumn sun shining across a playing field full of kids playing football watched by keen parents muffled up against the cold. I have spent many hours for many years watching my eldest playing football on the local playing fields.

We spent most of Saturday in the garden after a brief sojourn into Hull for some shopping and buying my first ever tuxedo for a Christmas Ball coming up in early December. In total we filled six large tonne size bags with shrub clippings and leaves from the shave we gave the garden and by the end of the day, the grass was dry enough to give a high cut.

It looks as though we might have had a fox in the garden, there are a few about in the neighbourhood because there was a hole in one of the raised borders which indicates it might have been digging for a frog or a toad. The birds are slowly coming back, the dunnocks have made their first appearance today for a couple of months and the robins are taking more notice of the work we've done in their effort to discover uncovered tasty morsels. The squirrels are now feeding more regularly at the bird table.

The final job to do in the garden is to lift the dahlias after they've been bitten by frost and indeed there is frost forecast this week.

It's going to be a lazy day for the rest of the day with a bit of reading, perhaps a football game on the TV if my other half is not watching the dross she records (she's not well poor ducks - chest infection). There's roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for tea although there is only three of us instead of the normal four (five when the boy is home from Uni) because my eldest son is spending his 24th birthday in Dublin - lucky lad. I've never been but would like to go.

Today's story revolves around a passenger plane that is in real difficulties and the Captain warns the passengers that they may have to crash land in the hills and it will be perilously dangerous. A female passenger stood up and shouted, "If I'm going to die, I want to die feeling like a woman." She took her top off and cried, "Is there anyone on the plane who is man enough to make me feel like a woman?"
A man stood up, took off his shirt and shouted, "Iron this!"

Chat soon

Ta-ra