When I was thinking about the blue moon last night, I thought 'how can it be a blue moon? A blue moon is the second full moon in the same calendar month, and there is one full moon every 28 days or so, so how can it be the second one when it is only half way through the month?' and then realised with a jolt that it was actually the last day of August, and today is the first day of September.
This year seems to be rattling away at an alarming rate, but I have had a lot of pleasure from it. I woke up this morning to greet September like an old friend. She answered my welcome with a little nip in the air, cool fresh air which gently blew through the window as we slept. When I walked into town, I spotted several spider webs glistening, and felt that stirring of the back-to-school-new-year-new-start feeling.
Many of my favourite fruits and vegetables are coming into season - I came home from the market yesterday with a brown paper bag full of Victoria Plums, and I am anticipating a visit to our local orchard for early season apples tomorrow. Soon it will be time to splash cinnamon syrup into my coffee and pull out the extra blankets for the bed.
Almost as lovely as the reality of autumn are these last days of summer, the anticipation, the harvest time. I was on a train one evening this week, and saw this wonderful vast field which had been ploughed, next to a field of corn, the two divided by a row of trees. Dusk was falling, but a piercing shaft on sunlight slashed across them highlighting their contrasting colours. So beautiful. It reminded me of harvest festival when I was a little girl. At primary school we always used to have a special whole-school assembly where each class would do a song or a poem or miniature play. When you got into the last class, the oldest children baked bread and were allowed to help serve it and tea and coffee to the special visitors, who I think were probably governors and so on. At school and Sunday school, we decorated shoeboxes and filled them with tins and shiny apples and boxes of tea to give to the old people. Looking back it seems a little odd that we were celebrating the harvest by giving tins!
The year before we were married, we went to a harvest lunch at the church we were married in, and everyone brought with them a home made apple pie. If you read back through the archives ever, you will know what a disaster my poor pie was, but I remember loving that feeling of celebration, and joining together. I am hoping to find a harvest festival service for us to attend this year, and decorate another shoe box, and fill it with lovely things this time.
There is a lovely little delicatessen in the little village where my library-on-a-hill stands, and they bake their own delicious bread. In the window are some varnished loaves to show their skills, including a sheaf of wheat where the ears are individual rolls, and there are little rolls made to look like mice, too. That makes me really want to make bread, as well. I think that perhaps one evening this week I shall bring home a bunch of sunflowers for my kitchen table, bake bread and make soup. Simple, but celebrating the season we are in, and looking forward to the season to come.
My planned task for this afternoon is to thoroughly turn out my clothes closet. It is time to let go of some clothes that I have kept for several years but not worn, to let go of things that are worn out or don't fit or aren't really me. Part of me is scared to have a small collection of clothes, but the reality is that if I am not wearing the others, then really I do have a small wardrobe, I just have some additional clutter. I plan to start to put some of my summer dresses to the back, and bring forwards some wraps and jumpers. After all that, it will definitely be time for a pot of tea...Ceylon today, I think.