First Autumn - almost...

I was trawling through my laptop folders for an up-to-date CV a couple of days ago. I didn't find one. What I did find was something I wrote when Thomas was just six months old and coming up to experiencing his first autumn. Not that he'd have been aware of it. This year, he'll be much more into leaping into piles of leaves, and he loves peering at blackberries to see if they're ripe.

At the risk of turning this blog into the gardening blog equivalent of a Vogon poetry recitation, I thought I'd publish it here.  In the garden at the moment it's autumnal by feel, if not by date. Normal, non-poetic service will resume shortly.

First Autumn

Flights of brown and red and orange tumble through the air;

Fallen flights crunch under hands and knees, and smell of age.

A thousand bright jewels reflect rainbows, strung together by invisible threads;

In the middle is eight-legged patience, waiting for trembles.

Sweet explosions of red and purple orbs on the tongue,

Plucked by a loving hand from twigs guarded by grabbing plant claws.

Out of the window, the garden made blurred by clouds that touch the ground,

Muffling the robin’s sad song.

A new season, new sensations – a myriad new experiences

To touch, to taste, to see, to smell –

My first autumn.