Cold and dreamy

Sept 11—Joe came by again, and this time he helped me put the string lights on the back porch.  How beautiful light is… all lights!  And I’ve been wanting to hung some string lights here in the porch for such long time!… always dreaming, planning and dreaming some more.  And now, it feels as if the night, the stars in the sky and I are one and the same thing under the soft lights of my porch.

Joe, also helped me put some wire or some type of support on the lower roof of the porch for the grapevines to climb onto, so they they will have an adequate support next spring to grow and cover the porch in green curtains.  I can hardly wait to see the progress.

After Joe left, I cut some roses and made a lovely bouquet for our bedroom…

The afternoon was crisp and sunny and everywhere I looked it was gold and emerald, and I wanted to pick roses and dance barefooted on wet green grasses.  How beautiful, and how lovely this time of year is, and feels...

Sept 12—our little world turned cold all of a sudden today.  We woke up and were surprised to find that Winter had swept over the land and, like some sorts of a mythological hen molding soil and loose material with its body and feet, it had made a nest on our little world, sat down on it, and I'm afraid it is here to stay for a while.  

I put on my PJ's and cozy slippers... and all day long I wore this outfit.  I supposed this is the end of summer, and days are deliciously perfect and soft and full of magical moments.

This morning, I brought in most of my potted plants.  Trying to find them the right spot in the house took me a few hours; moving them up and down, placing them here and there.  They are doing marvelous, but I know that soon they will start losing leaves as they adapt to inside temperatures and dryer air.  

I try to make everything beautiful around me in our house, but in the garden, is where my soul wants to live all day long!

Just the still melancholy that I love — that makes life and nature harmonize. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot, letter to Miss Lewis, 1st October 1841