Season Of Mists...And Gossamer Spiders Webs.

Poised and ready...last night there was the most wonderful sunset...it was simply stunning and the camera battery needed charging.

So now it's charged and ready...what's the betting it'll be overcast and grim when the sun goes down...

These mornings are simply wonderful, cold and crisp...our cottage overlooks Tom's field...bit of a rough area actually, full of reeds...but on Autumn mornings, early, before the sun rises, those reeds are draped in spiders webs that glitter and sparkle...there's often a thick mist lying low over the field swathing the grasses and the bottoms of the trees...

It's cold...that sharp cold which heralds a warm day...Himself put his jacket on this morning and his cap before he ventured down our street with the dogs for their early morning walk...

I snuggle back into my blankets and doze while the kittens...released from the confines of the bathroom...race hither and thither across the floors...skidding to a sudden halt to hurl themselves at the window when they see a Sparrow in the honeysuckle...

Murphy lands on my shoulder and pounds away with his soft paws, purring away until Molly leaps on him and away they go again...

Jonny goes past on his tractor and the first of the workmen on the bridge drives by...it's getting light now and the beautiful gossamer spiders webs can be seen no longer...the mist rises and disappears and Eilis is the first dog home...barking frantically at the back door as though the hounds of hell are right on her tail...

I emerge from my cocoon of warm blankets and ask Himself what's new in the street and he'll tell me Wendy's horses have gone down the bog road and Jason's teeth are falling out and Tom is away today taking cattle to the North...

He makes a cup of tea and I prop myself up and try to look awake...the view from our window is plain and ordinary again...mist is long gone and the magical sparkle of the complicated spiders webs are but an illusion...

The secrets of the night hours will have to wait a while as the sun rises and late bees go from flower to flower and apples drop with a thud from the old tree...the little pansies have long given up...assailed by snails and slugs their tiny faces are chewed almost to oblivion...time for them to be consigned to the compost heap. But their seeds will lie dormant to take root next year in unexpected places...

And the wheel of life goes around once more.