Summer was hot and dry. So far, autumn has been cool and wet. It is good weather for reading novels, writing letters, knitting, drinking tea, and playing with cats.

Twice in the last month--twice--Presely the boxer was sprayed by a skunk which he then dispatched. I am beginning to wonder if he is really a prince or not. Right now I'm thinking not.

There are so many books I want to read. I have a list and the beginnings of a nice stack. I just started reading The Little Stranger a few days ago. It is an atmospheric, gothic tale about a house--I have always loved books about houses. All the better if the house is creepy and mysterious.

Autumn is my favorite time to walk in the woods. There is a feeling of anticipation as plants scatter their produce and animals gather and store.

In my photos, I try to capture what I really see and how I see it, so I don't use filters at all. This was the sky outside my house the other night at sundown:

 And this was the sky just a few seconds later:

The world's problems are so large, and I am so small--smaller than most it seems. The world has changed so fast, and it keeps changing faster and faster. I don't know what to think, to be honest. I went to the doctor's the other day, and while going over my history, the nurse said, "Still no work?" Well, actually, I do quite a lot of work: I keep house and cook for seven people, educate my children, care for several pets, tend a large garden, provide hospitality multiple weeks of the year for out-of-town guests, and do all of the bookkeeping for my husband's business. But, yes I am a housewife, a once common occupation that is now considered obsolete, insignificant, and the opposite of "working". 

However, there is no point in dwelling in negativity and other people's perceptions. Far better to dwell in leaf fall and candlelight, stories about spooky houses, the magic of handwritten letters, and the mystery of wild peace. ♥

Love and roses,
Sue

Yesterday was dark and rainy--really dark--as the remnants of hurricane Florence moved up the coast. I was glad for the rain, because now I don't have to water my plants for at least a few days.

I drank lots of tea and finished reading The Forbidden Place by Susanne Jansson--so good! A spooky novel that is far more than just a story. So much to think about and record in my notebook.
 

Do you make these "Apple Babies" on autumn days? Peel and cut two apples into eighths. Cut crescent dough triangles (the refrigerator rolls) into two long triangles each and roll each triangle around an apple slice. Place in pan and drizzle half a stick of butter over all. Generously sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Pour a 1/4 cup of apple cider or orange juice in spaces around pan (not over the top of the apples/dough). Bake at 350°F for 25 minutes. They are too easy and addicting. 

September is the month for rose bouquets at my house. My rose bushes always go crazy in September--wild and huge and producing continuous blooms. I cut at least a dozen stems a week.

The September sky can be darkly moody or so blue and bright that it leaves me breathless. I love the sky so much.

 The days are growing shorter, the nights cooler. The in-drawing-cozy-time has come.

 

 

I have taken out this cardigan project I started last spring. I am only knitting on it a little each evening, but maybe I will finish it this fall. The color of the wool doesn't photograph well. It is a true moss green.

These two never stop making me smile.

 Zach stringing-up. Always there is music at my house ♪

I have said before that I think Presley is really a prince in a dog suit. Look at those eyes. So much love and kindness for everyone. Except for when the skunk sprayed him in the face a few weeks ago. He was all dog then.

 I can't remember the last time I watched television. I watch the birds and animals instead.

 Look closely now:

 And look who is watching from the fence!


Leaf fall has begun.The leaves are just beginning to lose their chlorophyll.

The pond is splendid with purple loosestrife, orange jewel weed, goldenrod, misty mauve love grass, and wild aster.

It has taken me awhile to get going, but we have finally started back to our home school lessons this week. I think it is the latest we have ever started. But, better late than never, right?   

Love and roses,
Sue

These are my favorite months of the year: August~September~October~November. The golden, sunlight, deepening shadows, ripening fruit, showy blossoms, hum of insects and bats--I'm always happiest and most productive in late summer and fall.

Everywhere there are signs of the beautiful, holy circle, 'world without end'.

Jewel weed and goldenrod are beginning to bloom.

And the meadows are five feet tall and thrumming with life. 

Sometimes I like to leave little messages among the pebbles on the trail for people to find.

This is the first year that my pitiful little peach tree has borne fruit--there are four exquisitely blushing peaches.

For a few years, I wore my hair quite short, but for most of my life I've worn it long (for a period of twenty years I rarely had it cut.) But then, last year in March, I gave up haircuts altogether (too expensive). My hair hasn't seen scissors or a hair dryer in almost a year and a half. This is what it looks like now--my old witchy waves are back, threaded with silver.

If you want to know where I am, you can find me here: in the woods, tending my roses, swimming, exploring old towns, wading in the sea, sitting by a fire under the stars, painting messages on pebbles, searching for old postcards in the early morning light at the Flea. Perhaps where we are defines us more than anything else.

I came across this quote on Lis's blog (linked below under "West"--you must see her gorgeous nature journal!)

It’s all too easy to get stuck inside our own heads, to live out of our imagination. But the deep, honest, authentic ancestral wisdom we’re looking to reclaim is the wisdom of the land, the wisdom of place, and in order to develop that wisdom we need to get out of our heads and out onto the land.

 - Sharon Blackie, "Becoming Native to Place" from Reclaiming the Wise Woman

Yes, if you want to 'find yourself', get to know your neighborhood: the goldenrod, the birch, the little brown bat, the monarch butterfly, the lichen, the hill, the moon, the trail around the pond, the clouds and rain, the moss-covered boulder. There is much truth in knowing your place.

Need a compass? You might find these posts as inspiring as I did:

North
South
East
West