Everything lies on the edge of the dark jade sea.
I am listening to Donald Munro Graham's recorded collection of verse, entitled Red Donal's March Across the Atlantic, so rich in passion and Scot. Carbeth's bard takes me back to this landlocked haven, as am about to walk my shore.
I barely noticed our rite of passage through the equinox, even though night has begun to duel with light. Now seven days away from wandering along the edge of the island without a watch, I can now photograph sunrise, which coincides with waking time.
Colours at dawn, dusk or at night begin to glow. Last Monday night alone, did we stand still inside stillness of our garden to marvel at the Northern Lights. This Nordic sky was filled with them! I love high hairst (or mid-Autumn).
Everything turns equidistant.
Still overgrown, in spite of early air frost that turn leaves gold and brittle, the remnants of summer still shine within our own garden.
Late flowers, rose hips and self-heal add to the lushness of a bountiful second day of October. Exceptional and surprising at this time in the year, that Shetland Blue I love to sing lingers around my very northern latitude.Warm days ended September with a plethora of constellations so visible last Tuesday night... I kept a vigil till my eyelids turned too heavy, as I was hoping for the magic of Aurora Borealis to repeat their showcase. Since our universe remains so Wagnerian, I recorded a portion of it , sheltered from that warm S wind.
if morning dew lingers through our gradual shortening days, those beads of water seem to preserve precious moments on each leaf blade.
The island looks so majestic in dimmer light. And as our closest star begins to fade behind my hill, I shall sit back close to the hearth until dusk knocks... I shan't forget this first Sunday of October.