apple pickers

camillepissarro-the-apple-pickers
“The Apple Pickers” by Camille Pissarro

The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel –

Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Drying grass,
New books and blackboards
Chalk in class.

The bee, his hive
Well-honey, hums
While Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.

Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.

~ John Updike
(September)

~ autumn equinox ~

was it the batter?

"Farm at Montfoucault 2" by Camille Pissarro (1830-1903) French Impressionist & Neo-Impressionist Painter
“Farm at Montfoucault 2” by Camille Pissarro

Still waiting for some snow here in southeastern Connecticut. Still wondering what on earth gave me a very bad case of food poisoning. And wondering if I will be well enough to fly to North Carolina on Sunday as planned…

Waiting for test results to see what mowed me down… I’m guessing, by process of elimination, that it was the pumpkin muffin batter I licked off the spoon or the easy-over eggs I had at the restaurant. Of course I’ve been doing research online.

A post written by a 27-year-old woman proudly asserted that she had been licking the spoon when baking all her life and had never got food poisoning in spite of her mother’s dire warnings. Well, I have, too, for 58 years, and, a word to the wise, I will never ever do it again!!!

Tim and I ate all the same things in the days leading up to my illness, except for licking the batter spoon and except for having scrambled eggs when I had mine over-easy. I will never order over-easy eggs again. Tim did not get sick!

In fact, he’s been taking very good care of me. Laundry, dishes, meals for himself, taking me to the emergency room and then to the gastroenterologist. This is day four and I’m doing much better, still resting and sleeping a lot. The doctor wasn’t sure if I’d be well enough by Sunday to make the much-anticipated trip south to see Katie and her folks. Keeping my fingers crossed!

First Harvest

"The Harvest" by Camille Pissarro
“The Harvest” by Camille Pissarro

She’ll come at dusky first of day,
White over yellow harvest’s song.
Upon her dewy rainbow way
She shall be beautiful and strong.
The lidless eye of noon shall spray
Tan on her ankles in the hay,
Shall kiss her brown the whole day long.

I’ll know her in the windrows, tall
Above the crickets of the hay.
I’ll know her when her odd eyes fall,
One May-blue, one November-grey.
I’ll watch her from the red barn wall
Take down her rusty scythe, and call,
And I will follow her away.

~ Francis Ledwidge
(August)

Lughnasa: August 7, 2011, 4:37 p.m.
August 6, 2012, 10:26 p.m.

First Harvest ~ Lammas

Harvest ~ Life ~ Wisdom

Seasonal movie:
Dancing at Lughnasa

Activities:
Read Moby Dick overnight on the Charles W. Morgan
at Mystic Seaport