Autumn days pass like falling leaves, autumn is the period from the autumnal equinox to the winter solstice, beginning today on 22nd September. The mists rise in the meadows, the colour of a seagullâ€™s wing; by mid-morning the mists have disappeared, how lovely are these pearly days.
Mother had a lovely day out with neighbours and I was not included. They went to Bruton, to Hauser and Worth, primarily to see the prairie planting of the Dutchman Piet Oudalf. Two acres of grasses interspersed with the occasional perennials, weaving across two acres, almost like a river. Ma found it extremely interesting, but felt it lacked charm. Sadly, the modern art galleries were closed, however the very expensive shops were open! They had lunch in the over-priced restaurant, which was delicious.
On Saturday Ma and I went to Forde Abbey to a garden festival run by the renowned Toby Buckland. It was extremely well put on, something for everyone. Of course, Dearest couldnâ€™t keep her hands in her pockets, spending the two weeksâ€™ housekeeping on plants and nick-nacks. I was dragged around with Maâ€™s scarf as she had forgotten my lead; I enjoyed the day meeting other dogs, but no Pekes.
As usual, we had Paddy, the mongrel from next door for the week; poor fellow, only his mother knows who his father was . This time he jumped on the kitchen table and ate all the cheese Ma had bought for friends coming to supper.
The blue and white garden is still full of colour, its ethereal beauty enhanced by the white Gauras and late-flowering Salvias.
Hardly a ripple disturbs our lives; something of the charm of late summer lingers in the air, the scudding clouds, the purple shadows add to the passing days and to the comforting thought that soon we will light the Great Hall fire and toast crumpets and warm our cold feet.