Those Nights are Drawing In...

When we left our garden

It was summer

And now we're back

There's an ominous honking on the lake up the hill as the Canada geese gather to fly south - those that are going, as they don't all go. Perhaps they're having a political convention - probably making a lot more sense than the human equivalent. On the lane it's tapestry time - a massive impressionist painting of asters and goldenrod.

We have a huge number of apples this year - at least we can eat these - well, we can stew them.

Which is more than I can say for these - chucked down by the energetic crabapple tree in front of the house.

They are woody and useless. Though they do make a homely, cidery smell. Evidently one of our furry friends took a bite and was less than impressed.

There was a crescent moon the other morning

followed by a pretty dawn .

And the other way, the sun deceptively colouring the hills

Our wooden neighbour now sports a soccer (sic) ball. It must be the season.

But so far not many leaf colours - just a single reddish tree on the hill

Made up for by some booty from the farmers' market.

 This is the time when everyone's practically giving their produce away. Stalls by the roadside groan with courgettes, aka zucchini and even more with what they call yellow squash. Please, please, take one!