I thought you may like to see some autumn colour from the village. At last the trees are becoming autumnal, and the leaves are changing colour. So pretty.
The trouble is that all we need is a strong wind and they will all be gone. And the wintery look will be here to stay for months.
A couple of days ago, I arrived back at my friends' home, and saw a little brown dog racing around the close. No people were around, so I managed to catch her, and check her tag. Her name was Millie. So I called the owner while holding her collar in the rain, and he was trying to work out where I was, so I popped her in the car to get out of THE RAIN, which was torrential at this point. 15 minutes on the phone, and I was about to drive to his place, when I saw his son tearing out of the lane, obviously looking for her, so I handed her over. And an hour later.........
there was a knock on the door, and Millie's owner was standing there with a huge bunch of roses for me. So sweet. I have never had such a large bunch of flowers before. I had to put them in 2 vases. This is the one in the lounge. Gorgeous. The fact that I was doing my scarecrow impression with hair sticking up on end like straw was ignored. I was mortified.
I was creative. I arranged the flowers.
Autumn in the village can be so pretty.
I had to go to the Post Office, and on the way back I noticed all the pine needles on the ground, and I looked up - this is the kind of tree we had in Cape Town. I just love the silvery grey green colour.
And how about these colours......Maybe I should have done 31 Days of Autumn. I may have been better at it. I may try waxing some leaves if I manage to collect any dry ones. That would be something new to do.
I was just remembering the first bunch of flowers Geoff ever bough me. We were getting ready to fly out to Cape Town for our wedding, and he went to have his hair cut.
I heard the car arrive back, and then his arm appeared around the door with the flowers, and I heard his mother trying to stifle laughter and he walked into the room. I was right to be suspicious. He had been scalped. Just remember that this was 1976, and men had longish hair. They didn't go around with shaven heads. I screeched, just imagining all the wedding photos, and he handed over the flowers. Not because he loved me to bits. No. A peace offering. To placate me. He knew. Hah. He was right to be wary.
Oh well. The wedding was beautiful, and looking back now, his short hair is much more normal to me today than the longer hair would have been, looking back. And both my sons, with their receding hairlines, prefer short hair. They take after their father. As a Mum, I just loved my boys to have long hair. I must haul out the photos sometime.
I still remember those flowers.........