Good Morning Sunshine...

Happy May Day! Here are some lovely shots of the dawn breaking as seen from the balcony of the bridal suite...

The sun's rays cascading through the early morning Waikato mist on a cool Autumn day...

The crisp blue sky...

with Swallows darting about, and the Nymphaeum in the background...

C'est Trés Trés Froid!

Continuing the theme of Winter, here are some evocative seasonal photos. I feel shivery just looking at them...

Source: Tumblr

Willowbrook Winter...

Sorry about the silence, but I have been back home in NZ enjoying time with Peter and looking over the changes at WBP. It definitely was a change in clime going from Dubbo, wear I am still wearing shorts and a T-shirt to Hamilton, where I was rugged up with multiple shirts, vests, jerseys and coats! Winter had arrived well ahead of me, and with it some glorious frosty photos...

 Above: A weeping birch on the banks of the lake

Below: A frosted hillock behind the lake

These were taken at 10am, and the frost still had not melted!

Below: The Dietes grandiflora waiting to be planted alongside the well overgrown brook. You can't even see the water for the long grass...

Below: The orchard, still with some morning frost.

  Which cleared over the course of the morning...

Below: Looking towards the hedge we planted two years ago.

The first half of the vineyard...

The last rose of Summer on a background of Winter Hornbeam...

Below: The Bluebell Walk down towards the lake. The Silver Birch have grown from three feet high three years ago to almost twelve feet. The bluebells and hyacinths have yet to come up through the mulch. Something to look forward to in October/September.

 
The view from the carriage house site (where they have already put the power on ready start construction in the next week or two)...

The gate with signage to the farm, where the leiland hedge is doing well. We are not going to let it grow any taller than it is at present. There is a clump of daffodils which comes up around the base of the sign each spring.

So, all poised to finally begin. I will believe it once the first sod has been turned as we have had so many set backs over the past two years with red tape, professional exams, and weather. However, it has turned out for the best, as we have had time to tweak plans, find the best builders and craftsmen, and let the gardens become established so as not to have a large house on a bare plot of land. I now wait with baited breath for the diggers to roll on in.

My Ode to Autumn...

Gold and scarlet painted leaves

hang delicately on the trees.

They fall and float upon the breeze,

the Zephyr's captive slaves.

Then dance and twirl upon the earth

crunch underfoot, erstwhile the turf

grows cold and damp; the shadows long,

til Summer's faded rose is gone.

Like embers in a fun'ral pyre

they leap and dance amidst the fire.

Like secrets hid: my heart's desire,

they brittle, live no more.

Wet and cold, lain dead they moulder, 

in trenches, drains, and gutters deep,

and decompose, the worms to feed - 

slain soldiers in a heap. 

We all are leaves, Our season's now,

so laugh and grow upon the bough:

for someday soon, I know not when,

the light will fade again.

(C) David Lord Cowell, March 2013.

Autumn...

It is hard to believe that summer is drawing to a close and the first bronzed leaves of autumn are starting to fall. The word autumn is derived from the Latin autumnus or auctumnus ‘the harvest time / time of plenty", which stems from the verb augere ‘to increase,’ because the crops increase and give their yield at harvest time. In England, Autumn was simply known as 'Harvest Time' until somewhere around the 15-16th century, when the word autumn became popular.

I

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-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With 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-brimm'd their clammy cells.

II
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

III
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Above: John Keats, Ode to Autumn.

Above: Edith Piaf, The Autumn Leaves (Les Feuilles Mortes)

Autumnal Dinner party...

With every change in season we throw a small dinner party for our closest friends at Eden, our Edwardian villa in town. It is a chance to get together and celebrate with good wine and seasonal food, and also an opportunity to try out new table-scapes and ideas. This year it was also our first chance to 'test-drive' the newly redecorated dining room.

We decided to try to catch the falling leaves of autumn in a still-life cascade. We collected various deciduous leaves and touched them up with a light coat of gold paint. We then strung them on thin nylon and draped them from the chandelier in the dining room.

We scattered the remaining leaves over the centre of the table and added some nesting 'quail'.

For the invitations we used some metallic bronze card and copper ribbon, and gold paint on a rubber stamp of an Acanthus leaf: