When is Autumn?

They are getting bigger everyday. And there are nineteen of them. The above is one of those presents that brings special pleasures every year. Son #3 gave me this apple tree a number of years ago. The only trouble is that the presence of these beautiful apples makes me think about Autumn – again. No matter the fact that the Autumn Term has started in Scottish Schools, in my heart summer is June, July and August; while autumn is the latter part of September, October and part of November –  the time when the leaves turn gold and start to fall. That is what comes of having been brought up in the South of England. And I have never got used to HBTW‘s attitude of Autumn being in August, because in southern England temperatures are still in the twenties centigrade. I know that the opposite is true in the north of Scotland, but I feel like stamping my size four and a half, and shouting, “Oh no – summer can’t be over already.” Still, this is what happens every year after our Wedding Anniversary – I should be used to it after 51 years.

So I suppose that rant is over and I can go with the precious summer days that are in my heart. At least I can today, because it has been a warm sunny day with swallows still swooping and peacock butterflies lazing on the wildflowers.

We have been making the most of the weather to enjoy several outings. This was a day out in St Andrews, spent along with reminiscences of my time there as an undergraduate – rather a mature one, but someone who was pleased to make the most of the gift of three years of study and research. It was a busy time and I knew at the time that it would pass all too quickly. To be honest, I looked forward to being qualified and becoming a full-time Parish Minister. The only thing that really surprises me is how quickly the years have gone since I have been retired.

In fact, we don’t have to go far for days out. The above is Himself with a glass of lemonade in the Community Garden. Less than a mile away from the house. Other treats and outings have included the following:

• A day to the Kelpies at Falkirk.
• A tour of Fife on a wet day.
• A few days spent with Son #1 and his family and the Olympics on TV.
• Loch Lomond and a picnic at Luss.

Time seems to rush past and I am grateful for the health and energy to be able to enjoy living in such a beautiful part of the world. On wet days I dream about all those indoor pursuits I am intending to catch up on; there is the ongoing task of writing up my Memoirs – it is coming on slowly because I keep getting diverted into ever more detail. Housework is not quite at the bottom of the list, but dusting is never a priority.

After all, who wouldn’t rather wander round these iconic sculptures than stay indoors with a mop and a duster?

If asked to sum up this rambling blog post, I reckon it would be about making the most of the latter days of summer, though in truth we would do well to always make the most of the here and now whenever possible. I spent so many years writing sermons that I am tempted to go into the range of possibilities of all the things that come along, good and bad. But this isn’t a sermon, and the last thing I want to do is to preach at you, Dear Reader, what I want for you (and me) is more happy summer days and a gentle acceptance of the crisp beauty of autumn, when it comes.

I just don’t want it to be too soon.
Blessings from Dalamory.