Website of poet Elizabeth Rimmer

The Week on the Threshold of Winter

This pottery witch was made a long time ago by my youngest daughter, so it’s just right to start a post on Hallowe’en!

My grand-daughter and I made this lantern yesterday. I know it was a small cultivar – wee be little – but this is ridiculous. It’s a testament to how poor the summer has been. On the other hand, said grand-daughter took it into school today and everyone thought it was ‘so cute’. One of the mothers said she was going to go to Tesco to see if she could buy a small one like that, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her!

Other things like the wet. There’s nothing wrong with the kale:

or the cabbages and the chillis don’t seem to mind it either.

But this is the reality of this week. In the wind last Thursday there was a sudden rattling on the roof as leaves in their thousands left the trees. I can see the railway line through the trees, and even as far as the windfarm on Sherriffmuir from my window. The world is opening out as if the orchard had drawn back a curtain. For all the shorter days, winter here is the time of vision.






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