To Autumn 

What a lovely day to be out and about in London Town!  The leaves are turning, glowing softly in the low morning sun. The thermometer read 11°C but it felt mild and comfortable.

It’s on days like this that my O Level English Literature quotations crowd back into my mind: “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, close bosom-friend of the mmm-mmm-mmm sun”. Well, OK not the whole quotation, eh?

Even so it prompted me to look it up. (Ah there should be an Ode to the Internet!). Reading a poem is a pleasant thing to do on a bus on Shaftesbury Avenue.

The BBC has it here if you wish to enjoy the whole poem and (Poem of the Week) tells me it was written on 19 September 1819 so a very timely poem.


Who can see the breath?

Breathing is like the wind.

Who can see the wind? Neither you nor I.

All you can see is

  • the bending of the trees,
  • the billowing of the ship’s sails,
  • the scurry of the Autumn leaves.

Who can feel the breath?  Not I!

All I perceive is

  • the expanding of the chest,
  • the lifting of the shoulders,
  • an instant of cool at the nose.

When I thought of this, it reminded me of poem I knew as a child.

Looking it up, it is by Christina Rossetti and is not who can see but, rather, who has seen the wind.  All in all, worth a read – that’s real poetry, folks!

Look at it on the Poetry Foundation web site here.


One of my meditations uses a visualisation of a lake.  This is the lake I imagined.

Who knew the lake could be such a potent image for me?  In my blog outlining my experiences in my first week of learning meditation, find it here, I explained how the meditation worked.  I also wondered if it was a good meditation for me – it didn’t help me focus, it inspired my imagination.  This is the result of the week’s meditations.

The Lake – my lake


Ruffled surface with no reflections

Reflections of the hills, mountains, trees, forests, soaring skies

Visible, crystal clear, seeing the bottom

Rough and wild,

Whipped up by the wind – or moon-driven waves

Still and calm beneath the surface

Then home to a thousand species, waving and darting, lurking and darting.

Stretching out to many different places and ideas and thoughts – beaches of fun; wild rocks; sewerage outlets, industrial water and cooling, sailing boats and swimming areas, fishing, floating, staring up at the blue, blue sky …

Tree lined shores, overgrown and weeds of different colours.

Inlets from high mountain streams

Outlets flowing on into the sea

Connecting and connected

Shaping the land and shaped.

Reflecting the sunshine and the blue of the sky

Dark under the storm clouds as the rain replenishes.

Underneath in the deep part a sunken city – spires, bell tower with bells still chiming

My lake.

Hello, Autumn!

Yes, today is the first day of Autumn – and it looks like Autumn in London.  North Sydney is fading into the mist.  It’s rainy and windy.

It’s funny how entrenched are the ideas with which you grow up.  It’s the first day of March – St David’s Day – a day for daffodils and crocuses and the whiff of Spring in the air.  Even though this is my second Autumn here in Australia, I still find my instincts expect the days to be getting lighter, not darker; and I’m looking forward to Summer.

Anyway, that is my problem. Maybe I should quote Keats:

“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun”

I always did enjoy that poem.

Find the rest here.

Happy Autumn, everyone!