early autumn

It’s September, and, with its usual regularity, the weather has changed and it begins to feel quite autumnal. We’ve had a few storms recently, which have brought down yet more windfalls.

 windfalls in the orchard

Fortunately the neighbour’s pigs seem to be happy to eat at least some of them. It seems in slightly bad taste – a bit like fattening baby lambs on rosemary and mint – but perhaps it’s only the UK where pork is eaten with apple sauce.

A few days ago I could have posted:

low sun
hammock sway
the dull thud of windfalls

But now it’s more a question of:

down in the orchard with the apple rot

and

putrescence of figs

The latter is a pity, as they were only just beginning to ripen and now they will be mostly spoiled. And there is little that’s quite so nasty and slippery as a mess of putrid figs on the path.

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

6 thoughts on “early autumn”

  1. Lovely description. Here in south-west England the month opens greyly, with just a hint of turn to some of the leaves. Nothing very stimulating from my study window. Should I move?

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    1. Thank you!
      Last autumn – November, I think – I spent some time in the Midlands and was stunned by the beauty of the English woodlands, a sight I had almost forgotten. Here, it’s mostly pine trees, olives, fruit trees and cork oaks.
      Sadly, you can get used to anything and learn to take it for granted. That means it’s easy to focus on the mildew on the vine and the parched kiwi leaves rather than wonder at the swelling grapes and marvel at the idea of sun-warmed figs and our own ‘Chinese gooseberries’.
      Even when the blights outweigh the positive aspects, though, I try to revel in putrescence and rot, and see the beauty of the black-and-red striped stink bugs, the shed mantis husks and the giant ‘grasshoppers’ which may or may not be locusts.

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  2. Have you tried describing your surroundings and feelings in book form? If not, you should. You have (if I may say so) a gorgeous and enviable sensibility.

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    1. Thank you (again!).
      I am trying to get many of these observations into my poetry and using the blog as a sort of holding place for some of the more prosaic phrasings. I think a final text would have to wander between the two forms and between the two languages – a bit like my life, I suppose. But how I will ever recognise that I have enough material and need to start the editing process rather than producing more, I really don’t know. Nor how I could interest anyone in publishing it and, subsequently, a greater number of ‘anyone’s in buying it.
      Your comments are much appreciated.

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  3. Finding interested publishers for anything is a swine, and always has been. It took me about 30 years to get my first publisher and I often wish I’d found something more worthwhile or satisfying to do than writing. One of the most pleasing things I’ve written (from my point of view if no one else’s) is my personal memoir Milking the Novelty, produced bit by bit over a dozen years or so. For more than half that time I simply jotted down isolated scenes and snatches of dialogue from memory and put them in a drawer or file with no thought of binding them together into a book. I’ve sold very few copies of it since I put it into print, but I’m OK with that. It exists. It is sufficient. Almost.

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