Advent Calendar

Hello everyone a wonderful Wednesday to one and all.

I am looking out of my dining room window at the swirling mist coming in from the sea, an ethereal mist that speaks of late summer and early autumn, with the sun glimpsing through in small shards here and there, absolutely beautiful and magical.  The cobwebs are sparkling in the misty sun with beads of moisture looking like glittering necklaces, isn't nature wonderful. Having just picked a load of tomato's and made some wonderful tomato sauce for pasta, chicken and vegetables, whatever will go with an unctuous tomato sauce, I am in danger of freezer overload, especially as I have another load of windfalls ready to prepare for fruit pies etc and more chutney.  I am also going to dry out my hard herbs today for herb oils and storage for the winter.  This is stockpiling from natures larder at it's best.

I am about to finish my latest knitting project (cardigan) and embark on the next, an advent calendar, photo's tomorrow, the pattern looks difficult but needs must as they say, and I hope to do two.  Ambitious thoughts get you where you need to be I understand.  

My new sewing machine has been tested, for mains and operation only, not road tested on material yet, that is later today, I was very lucky to be given this as it seems to do a multitude of stitches and has a free arm for small pieces of work, what surprises me most is that when trying to find instructions on line and studying the somewhat battered box it came in, I discovered that this machine was imported for a short line by Lidl and only cost £40.00 new. I have heard from a friend of my daughters that this machine is indeed very good and reliable.  Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth I would have accepted any offer to help me on my way, and this appears to be better that I could have expected.  So back to the sewing table and stove top.

To Autumn             John Keats (1795-1821) SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,	5
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,	10
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;	15
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;	20
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,	25
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;	30
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. Once again, thank you for reading and may your day be wonderful wherever in the world you are.