Michaelmas Again

It’s a time of life, for me, to gather things together; and things I would discard I find that I would keep. Another year past, if measured by the sowing and the reaping, though, in my case, only a few runner bean seeds were sown in my small vegetable patch;  and the result, this late summer, is a few tender beans, boiled and eaten with gravy and mint sauce. Completely delicious. I pulled up the plants yesterday and took down the canes which supported them. And kept a few seeds. But I did not manage to pick any blackberries.

Another year gone.  The morning light of this season of  September mist is a perfect setting for Michaelmas daisies,  deep blue, lilac or purple. I shall keep the few  bean seeds, for next year. Maybe aspects of me which seemed ready for the compost heap have the seeds of future life and creativity.

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2 Responses to Michaelmas Again

  1. Cheryl Sapcote says:

    The days flit by don’t they. Surrounded by so much beauty and joy – it is impossible to hold these beautiful things close for more than a moment. I am torn between just looking and wondering, and trundling on with the little tasks or conversations. Part of me wants to just stare and freethink and drift, another part of me is still caught up in a false social construct. Life is such a mystery.

  2. lleweton says:

    Thank you Cheryl. I agree. And we are for ever distracted. And that’s living too. At great risk of my sounding sententious I think again of T.S.Eliot’s poem ‘Four Quartets’, which I have read and only understood in part and in different ways, and maybe increasing ways, over 50 years and more, which says in the first section, ‘Burnt Norton’ beginning at line 62 (I’m not quoting in full): ‘At the still point of the turning world …… there the dance is.’

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