autumn is icumen in

It is not technically autumn yet, but the rowan trees are full of red-orange berries and happy birds clambering about upside-down to get to them. The crows drop acorns in the streets and wait for the cars to drive over them and crack them open. Fallen fir cones sprout dozens of tiny yellow mushrooms, gleaming in the dew. There are foghorns every morning. The sea is green, and there are maple leaves floating in it, even kilometres from land. We've made crabapple jam, and our pumpkins ripen on the vines.


( Too many photos )

Next year I hope to take on the sacred honor of a vegetable butt.