August 4, 2012

I gave myself a little more time to write my blog today, figuring I deserved some recreation time on Saturday after working all week, but I didn't count on feeling vaguely guilty all day because I hadn't written my post yet!  I guess I need to follow Longfellow's exhortation to "let us then be up and doing" a little more closely and sit down to write early in the morning, even on the weekends.  I hope everyone has had a pleasant day, filled with enjoyable activities that set the weekend apart from the busy work week.  While I certainly didn't set the world on fire today, I thoroughly enjoyed the book I finished (an interesting mystery by Barbara Michaels, Vanish with the Rose, that featured old roses and made me want to run right out to a nursery), went to a movie (Total Recall, my husband's pick), and tried two new recipes for supper (mango salsa and baked herbed tomatoes).  Not a bad Saturday!

My mother mentioned on the phone this morning that she had put up applesauce from her apple tree, and it reminded me of a poem that I first encountered in freshman English Literature and have loved ever since.  You can find the full poem at, if you would like to read more.

To Autumn
John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-treees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
Wth a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells.

Apple tree at Robert Frost Farm, New Hampshire

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