seeing the changing world in shades
of black and white. A turning senses.
feeling the interruptions of the day
in a quivering vibration of tender wood
scratching the surface of our deliberation.
The coming of autumn heralds a change. The daffodils fade out of the picture to be replaced with the russet siennas of the trees’ lament. There is moisture in the air as the Atlantic breeze kisses our land and the season brings a foretelling of the cold to come. But only a hint, as the warmth of the summer lingers through the fading year.
In 1975/6 I was living in a student house in Weymouth in William St with my fellow conspirators Pete Jaggard and Doug Davies, plus a cast of stopovers and dropovers unknown to some, or even all of us. Whilst there I got matey with three guys on the run as deserters from the Italian army. At that time conscription was compulsory in Italy but these guys had slipped free. One of them took a fancy to my cherished Levis denim shirt and in a moment of happy madness I agreed to swap it for an Italian army shirt that he had stowed away. Here it is – in an old snap courtesy of Doug and the enduring quality of film.
you were welcome
to the shirt off my back
As the summer fades into autumn the life in the garden changes. Birds exhausted from a lovely summer’s rearing are quiet and the hum of insects dies to a soft murmuring. Ash keys populate the path whilst the late pink roses curl with the first nip of the coming cold. Down the greening slope of the orchard the evening shadows fall longer with the dipping sun. The happy bees call us to be happy ourselves at this magical turning of the world.