At present

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer

an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.

....................................................... Anonymous

This years mosaic isn't very bright, but if you take the time to look at each piece in the mosaic there is much beauty to be found.

I haven't written for quite some time. Not that I lack things to write about — but I lack the energy to transfer the thoughts from the head to the paper — screen.
That is also the reason that I'm slow in answering comments and mail.
I know that many of you have been waiting VERY long for mail and/or letters. Hold out — I dare not promise any anything but I do think of you all.
It has been a strange year in many respects — and I have a feeling that I have to get used to it, as it isn't likely to change.

November

It is so much much November — inside and out.
It has been snowing tonight — so far only a thin layer of white on the ground, and I hope that's all we get!
I'm a terrible grouser, when I'm not sleeping I'm complaining. Which probably is my main reason for not blogging much.

I thought I'd picked all currents — but there still are a few on the bushes.

The garden today

'


I think it is time to admit that it is fall, and that the summer we've been waiting for won't come this year. The days are wet and cool – not the sunny kind of fall, I picture in my mind when I hear the word.
In spite of the disappointing weather, the beauty is everywhere – you just have to bend your knees and back to see it.

Every morning you find the fairies' laundry spread on the ground – it's a wonder that it dries, but it obviously does as they remove it later in the morning.

While some flowers seem to have given up, others refuse to wilt just because the summer is over.

Fall?