"The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cuts Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean With suds, the days Are polished with A morning haze." - John Updike, September
We've been enjoying these first September days. The air is a bit cooler, and there are a few yellow leaves here and there. I've tossed out the withering tomato vines and replaced them with chrysanthemum, white cyclamen, and silver ragwort. In the woods, nature has it's own flowers of the season on display, like the wild heather pictured above, feathery and delicately purple on the mossy hillsides.
Mornings stay dark noticeably longer now, and it makes me remember last winter, when Rafael was so small, and we would wake up together when it was still dark. We would tiptoe into his room, warm and smelling of the heaters, and play quietly, as the room slowly grew lighter and lighter, and the sky behind naked trees outside turned from black to grey to white. Those were such precious hours. Even as a tired mommy, I knew to cherish them. It felt like we were the only people awake in the world, in our dimly lit, cozy den.
I look forward to winter mornings like that again.