Sunday Afternoon Tea

I love autumn's morning sunlight, the way it is golden and enters through the window as a shy friend.  Have you noticed how the light of very early autumn is filtered through branches full of leaves?  Perhaps that is why it is so ethereal.

We began this week with record breaking heat and ended it in almost switching the furnace on.  Somehow I couldn't bring myself to doing it this soon (I am the one in the family begging for the air conditioner on the first hot day of spring, Hubby has been known to wear a sweater in August!).  For the forecast is for another warm up next week.

In the meantime, I have already enjoyed a new black tea with autumnal spices, let steep to its' full body with a dash of Splenda and a splash of whole milk... the only way I can drink black tea.  But that is another story...

Late last week I perused a section of the tall bookcases in the living room which held my favorite fall author, Gladys Taber.  I don't own a lot of her books, only perhaps four or at the most five.  But my favorite of what I have read so far is Stillmeadow Calendar. 

It was written when she was around age 68 or 69 and much of it is looking back on her life at Stillmeadow.  The essays in this book are presented by each month.  So far I have re-read January but look forward to the remaining months.   It is a good introduction to her work if you have never read any Taber before... even if it was among the last of her Stillmeadow books.

Besides spending time with Gladys, there are many signs summer is on the way out and autumn has arrived.  If one were being followed by Sherlock Holmes, he would... I am certain... pick up the fact more root vegetables are in the kitchen for the making of soups and stews, the throw is quite often at the end of the living room sofa, and our favorite Maine Coon kitty is welcome to stretch out on one's legs as they read (not so welcome in heat and humidity).

The bedroom window is now open for a cool breeze at night although the sound of howling coyotes last night was just a little creepy.  But so is autumn, come to think of it.  With all its' beauty there is a melancholy in its' days.  Including the forest becoming dark earlier and the singing of the coyotes.

While my mother enjoyed the appearance of autumn and I think the tastes of autumn... the season was one which depressed her greatly.  She once told me it was a reminder of those who were no longer with us.  Now about three decades later, I can understand.

I've been reminding myself this past week that we are in the time of the Fall Feasts... the High Holy Days of the Hebrew calendar.  Reminding myself that in God's timing, we have only this week passed Rosh Hashana... the Jewish New Year. 

A clean slate... like the first day of school when our pencils are sharp and our notebooks fresh (ummm... does that age me?).   Perhaps that is why I find autumn a time of Peace.  A season of contemplation.

I will soon return to the books on the coffee table by the sofa.  Susan is still there, I have a feeling A Fine Romance will remain close by for awhile to re-read favorite sections.  I've already mentioned Gladys.  Flora is waiting her turn for before I read another Tabor book, I will enjoy (having perused it once and now really reading) Lark Rise to Candleford.

Another sign Sherlock would notice... as the temperatures drop the stack of books increases.  :)