The red has begun. The blush. We know the goodness that is plumping up within. No wonder this fruit is a symbol of prosperity, of fertility. It is just so full. And I wait, almost holding my breath, through the beautiful, shorter days, burning hot mid-way, cooling with the lengthening nights, wait for the skin to crack, to reveal the dark red seeds. Party time: I am developing an understanding of the Acorn Woodpeckers who know well when it is time to harvest and stash.
Today I gathered the winter squash. Ooohh. Yes. I am envisioning soup. Baked squash. Yum. It has been many years since I have grown these. Last year friends gifted us with homegrown Butternuts and seriously, there is nothing on the planet quite so good. I sure hope my friend Nancy brings home some of that stupendous French burre; oh, I better stop before I make myself hungry.
Yes. I love egg photos. There is just something so pleasing about them. It's the same thing that Hafiz speaks of, something Divine. I suspect that their shape and color has always pleased the human eye.
It's a grateful kind of prayer, I guess, opening to the gentle Fall.
Love and hugs.