Autumn is here, but no one told seems to have told Summer!
From my wanderings late in September.
under the sloes - waiting to be picked for sloe gin!
I love this time of year - and I have a lot of sympathy with Emily Bronte!
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.