Sunday, 25 October 2020

A Frightful Time Of The Year

It was just this week that I received a text message asking when I was going to add another post to my Blog, seeing as it was early September the last time I did one.  By curious coincidence, I did plan one this week as I felt a need to update my own thoughts.

But it really doesn't feel like nearly seven weeks ago since I last wrote anything, such is the 'Groundhog Day' effect of the currently societal climate.  The days are pretty much the same, segueing into one another with little perceptible change as we drift through the year like rafted sailors adrift on the ocean seas.

As I look out of the window I can see the leaves on the trees are turning from lush verdant green to bright yellows, glimmering golds, bronzed browns and flamed reds, telling me that, like a bright but brief butterfly, summer has flown and the warm beauty of Autumn has arrived in her stead.  I  love Autumn; the scent of distant bonfires in the air... the chilled misted mornings... the rich velveteen colours so different but just as lovely as the bright explosions of Spring and palette perfection of Summer... the drawing in of the nights,,, the delivery of Mother Nature's bounty in the orchards, pumpkin patches and shimmered fields of gold, ready to be harvested.

John Keats saw similar glories of the season on one country walk in September 1819,composing the beautiful stanzas of 'To Autumn' on his reflections...

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.

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.

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.

There is a melancholic sadness to the poem, too, as Autumn begins her own 'adieu', and the birds gather for leaving as Winter approaches.  This is the other side to Autumn; a time for reflection, a sometimes sombre silence to remember the year (Rembrance Day could be held in no other season, surely) and be quietly thankful for the gifts we have.  For as Autumn slowly casts off her golden gown and the leaves of her jewelled mantle fall, so it feels like some of our hopes and dreams are also cast to the wind, sometimes to be trodden underfoot... especially this year of all years.  Life is now put on hold, ambitions and dreams laid to one side or laid to waste, and the worries that the Winter will bring hardship and desolation are dimming the soft warm light.

But sometimes that golden carpet of shedded Autumn contains seeds, too, that will wait until the right time to grow, stretch for the open skies and bloom.  From those small Autumnal acorns we may indeed see mightly oaks; but we must be mindful to tend to them closely, such is fragility of hopes and dreams.

I try and stay away from making this blog too political, as a real democracy allows all sorts of differing viewpoints and all can be valid, but on this occasion I will break the rule and state that the government's heavy-handed, misguided and over-reaching reaction is diametrically opposed to old King Canute.  The old story of King Canute trying to command the sea was, in fact, Canute proving to his court that he could not control all things, and somethings have a will and nature of their own.  Our current government seem to think the opposite - despite being unable to control the common cold, influenza and pneumonia, and a myriad of other ailments throughout the ages they appear to think this one can be mollified and contained.  In that plan they are bulldozing a way of life, a society and individual lives to prove it - collateral damage is an acceptable martyr, it seems.  In Wales, as I write, it is no longer lawful to buy baby clothes, books and kitchen utensils, amongst other 'non-essential' things... but you can still buy alcohol (not that I'm a member of the Temperance Society, of course), tobacco and lots of unhealthy food - indeed, a government that decrees that gyms must close whilst fast-food outlets can remain open is proof that politicians of any leaning should have limited powers only, just like those assigned to a petty-minded incompetent middle-manager.  Which is pretty much what they all are.

For myself, it's been an unusually quiet time of the year.  Autumn is usually 'party season', where the fetish and alternative clubs begin gearing up for their finale blast of the year, so there's normally always something to look forward to.  Indeed, plans for some booked Autumn events were scuppered in the early summer for many of these, such is the government policy of the year.  Without being able to travel and visit differnt towns and clubs, I've not really had the opportunity to indulge in some photography.  That meant a little shoot in my 'boudoir' of course as noted in the last post - I hope those who follow my weekly updated photo liked the leather/mask set (I still have a few left over, I think), like this one...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Leather Bitch

With Halloween approaching, however, this weekend I was out and about; seeking some suitably discrete and spooky woods in order to do some zombie/ghost photos.  If you can't have a mess around with costumes and a bit of silly Photoshop, when can you?

My outfit, if you could call it that, consisted of a rather Carry-On style machete and some scanty 'bloodied' table covers as a 'dress'.  Then it was a case of tramping into a bit of woodland - not easy in high heels, although they don't even show in the photos - and posing in the chilly night for some quick photos.  Despite the remote location, it wasn't long before another car parked up and I suddenly had a bit of an audience, as I was still in sight of the car park.

The photoshoot was therefore sadly curtailed, but at least I got a couple of photos - enough for this week and of course Halloween itself.  As Halloween falls on Saturday, I put the first photo up yesterday and the next will also go up a day early - next Saturday.  Here's one from the little collection that hasn't been tampered with, unlike the Picture Of The Week ones where I've decided to have a go at a different effect.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight...

So I'm at least looking forward to Halloween and a night out - even if it's just a local bar with friends.  Am I allowed to drink with friends?  Who knows, and anyway it could all change by next weekend anyway!

I hope you have an enjoyable Halloween - and remember... whatever spooks, ghosts, ghouls, demons and devils venture into our world on All Hallows Eve next weekend as the boundary between the living and the dead merges, one thing we can be sure of: the state of our current world will frighten them all back to the safety of the Hell they came from.

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