Friday, 29 October 2010
Where The Winding Road Takes Us.
Before the rains came, on a sunny autumn day, a Wednesday, we took a walk in a garden by a river. A beautiful garden in a magic valley. And we found the remains of a pumpkin patch, a decimated wildness of creeping green and the last of the bees, of trees like a golden splendour, where the sadness of leaves has blown the last breath of summer away, a cold frost that nips and bites and scolds.
And as we exclaim over Judith's 'grandmother' pumpkins all puckered and gathered like weathered dames, our voices meet the wind, tussle and dance away in the air above. And we ooh and aah over the most perfect shade of grey-blue ever seen, so perfectly flattered by this, it's dandy orange neighbour!
And there inside, in the quiet lull of the wind, we can almost hear the murmur of sweet pumpkin voices as they nod to one another, this way and that, and grumble of cold and damp and frosty nights.
So the rains come, and the weekend has arrived. And the little children have counted the days, gathered their costumes, made their plans. And we have colcannon and barm brack to look forward to, with treasure hidden inside. What will you be doing?
Happy weekend to you all!