Monday 6th November

Morning time

Drawing the bedroom curtains onto a low lying mist over the land, as is often the way in these parts in November.  I don’t mind it too much, the clocks changed last weekend, leading us full throttle into the winter months to come.


It’s chilly in the mornings, if we have the fire on we don’t need central heating, but it makes for a chilli start.

By 8 o’clock the sun is doing its best to break through, Arthur’s curled up fast asleep on the landing windowsill and a new week begins.



A quick dash home for lunch, back for a bite to eat and a quick hello, always greeted with upmost excitement, unless sleeping!




there are some things I love about this time of the year and other things I struggle with.  I think my biggest love is the fire, it’s so cosy.  I miss the garden though and picking posies and sitting out with the bees, many a long chat there has been with the bees this summer.  But all things must sleep, and the seasons remind me that I too must rest my mind at times in the darker days.

I am loving old forgotten words at the moment. Wryteard is Old English for plant guardian. Isn’t that just beautiful? When did we loose our plant guardians or the world? I wonder?  & how sad that we did,  my grandad was a plant gaurdian, I’d like to think I am one too.

Bonfires have died to embers & the night sky tonight will be returned once more to inky black, just the faint twinkle from distant stars with the full Frost moon of November now on the wain.



3 thoughts on “Wrytweard

  1. November isn’t my favorite month, but you have written encouraging words. In a few days I’ll deal with the time change and pull out my winterish sewing projects. I miss my flowers–but not the weeding.


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