Soon, I will search the woods for mushrooms. Precious gifts I carry home to my kitchen -- the smell of them almost as sublime as their taste. Their velvet caps and flutes, their feet cradled in earthy humus; I cut carefully, so they may return again. My cat, Thunder, follows me into the forest when I hunt for mushrooms. Like a truffle pig, he has often led me to groupings of mushrooms off my path. Does he know? It has happened too many times for me to question him.
The garden still has more to give ~ grapes, blackberries, tomatoes (with luck), potatoes to be dug, cabbage, leeks and lush herbs begging to be preserved in chutneys, vinegars and by drying. Summer's bounty isn't over yet. But I am ready and open to the quiet season, when my body is nestled in warmth and my mind flies.
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence. Thomas Hood