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Hello to you Dear Reader...
Hello to you Dear Reader...
Made the Chocolate Chip cookies. Passed them around. Froze some.
Last night we had Squash Soup. Which is no particular surprise. The surprise was, my husband used plain Soy Milk instead of regular milk. And it is delicious! And, I didn't have to take a LI med. Which was super! Now we know that Soy Milk works, in creamy soups. :-)
Daughter-in-law and youngest Grand, picked apples this morning. They brought this bag of them over. -hint-hint-hint- I now have to make an Apple Pie! :-) Son's Birthday is this weekend, and I thought she would be getting a Birthday Cake from the bakery. Nope, I have to make him an Apple Pie, for his Birthday. {Because my Apple Pie is his favorite dessert} So my baking spree isn't going to be over, yet. :-)
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'What saith September?'
A fair month, truly--golden fair, spiced with breath of the orchars, the vineyards' winy smell..
All the earth lies dry and warm, and palpitant in sunshine. The touch of it is vital. Lie at length here in the pasture, prone on its springy turf, and let the strength of it, the sweetness, the balm of healing, lap your tired soul to the Elysium, sleep--such sleep as comes never within four walls, or to the downiest couch
ever ever fashioned by man's hand. Sleep, and dream not. This the hour of fruition, needs not to borrow charm of such insubstantial stuff. A full world and goodly lies all abut. Upland orchards blush red and yellow; lowland, stubble, meadow, corn-field, chant in high, colorful notes a swelling prelude to Nature's harvest-home.
What scent comes out of the corn-land--rare, fine, subtile as breath of elfin flowers? All the russet rustling stretch is steeped in its balm. You drink it in long gasps, and turn away, sighing--it is full, so full, of spring, and dew, and dawn, and hope...
A jocund time this should be. The earth, the fulness thereof, lies smiling peace to a perfect heaven.
Walk afield [then] every day...Whether sun shines, or rain drips, or white frost bites and stings, you should find a liberal education in the hectic beauty of death; not cruel death, but a tender doom, sweet with the glory of full harvest, and spanned with the rainbow of spring resurection. ~~Martha McCulloch Williams
Gentle hugs,
Miss Mari-Nanci
All pics other than the cookies, soup and apples, are from an old 'Victoria' magazine
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Last night we had Squash Soup. Which is no particular surprise. The surprise was, my husband used plain Soy Milk instead of regular milk. And it is delicious! And, I didn't have to take a LI med. Which was super! Now we know that Soy Milk works, in creamy soups. :-)
Daughter-in-law and youngest Grand, picked apples this morning. They brought this bag of them over. -hint-hint-hint- I now have to make an Apple Pie! :-) Son's Birthday is this weekend, and I thought she would be getting a Birthday Cake from the bakery. Nope, I have to make him an Apple Pie, for his Birthday. {Because my Apple Pie is his favorite dessert} So my baking spree isn't going to be over, yet. :-) *~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*
'What saith September?'A fair month, truly--golden fair, spiced with breath of the orchars, the vineyards' winy smell..
All the earth lies dry and warm, and palpitant in sunshine. The touch of it is vital. Lie at length here in the pasture, prone on its springy turf, and let the strength of it, the sweetness, the balm of healing, lap your tired soul to the Elysium, sleep--such sleep as comes never within four walls, or to the downiest couch
ever ever fashioned by man's hand. Sleep, and dream not. This the hour of fruition, needs not to borrow charm of such insubstantial stuff. A full world and goodly lies all abut. Upland orchards blush red and yellow; lowland, stubble, meadow, corn-field, chant in high, colorful notes a swelling prelude to Nature's harvest-home.
What scent comes out of the corn-land--rare, fine, subtile as breath of elfin flowers? All the russet rustling stretch is steeped in its balm. You drink it in long gasps, and turn away, sighing--it is full, so full, of spring, and dew, and dawn, and hope...A jocund time this should be. The earth, the fulness thereof, lies smiling peace to a perfect heaven.
Walk afield [then] every day...Whether sun shines, or rain drips, or white frost bites and stings, you should find a liberal education in the hectic beauty of death; not cruel death, but a tender doom, sweet with the glory of full harvest, and spanned with the rainbow of spring resurection. ~~Martha McCulloch Williams
Gentle hugs,Miss Mari-Nanci
All pics other than the cookies, soup and apples, are from an old 'Victoria' magazine
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