A puckish wind shook the maple leaves loose yesterday - it set them fluttering through the air and across the ridge like birds, the brilliantly blue skies behind them forming a vibrant background to the windy seasonal undertakings.
The forest floor was already deep in fallen leaves, and they rustled underfoot like taffeta in our walkings about - leaves still on the trees tugged at their moorings like tall ships ready for journeys to faraway places and eager to be away on the next tide. There was color, sound and enticing fragrance everywhere: blue of sky, red and orange and yellow of leaves, red squirrels chattering in the overstory, the dry somewhat spicy perfume of native herbals going to seed and spreading their genetic wealth around for next year.
This morning is something else again. After several lovely cool, sunny and typically October days, it is raining here this morning. Showers started during the night, and there is rain in the cards until at least midweek. With no photo expeditions in our immediate future, into the tea cupboard we go and over to the several shelves of recipe books residing in a corner of the kitchen.
A few months ago, a friend gave me a copy of a delightful little volume by Deborah Krasner called "From Celtic Hearths, Baked Goods from Scotland, Ireland and Wales", and out it comes. The book is long out of print, but if you can unearth a copy somewhere, I highly recommend it. Hibernian scones will be mixed up from it morning, along with Irish black ginger cake for "afters' this evening.
Among today's various ritual stirrings and kneadings, there will also be venison chili, spicy tomato sauce and a peach cobbler. Hallelujah, it is finally cool enough to cook around here.