A is for Autumn

I rather like autumn.  I don’t enjoy getting wet feet, I don’t like seeing the end of summer colour, and I don’t look forward to the heating bills.  What I do enjoy is a season when being at home is a choice which I can make entirely guilt free.

In the summer I feel as if I ought to be doing something or going somewhere, in the winter I try and do a project.  And in the spring, I plan.  But autumn gives me permission to do absolutely nothing.  And I am very good at doing nothing.  When someone asks, "What are you doing today?" I can now answer, "watching the rain."

I rather like changing to my slobby autumn and winter clothes.  Sweatshirts which can be washed and don’t need ironing.  Thick comfortable tights.  Warm, lined skirts.  My warmer clothes will be delighted to be reunited with me.

Soon Jack will come and sort the garden to be left for the winter.  We’ll have the last of the tomatoes and beans and the one, single butternut squash. 

I’ve started to fill my freezer with lovely soups which will also be used to persuade Jack to come.  Porridge is back in business. Apples need using.

And evenings are glorious.  Curtains closed. A heated throw to snuggle up in.

And absolutely nowhere I need to be.   In fact, I can have a perfectly wonderful day without getting dressed properly. 

(I'm doing my usual "thing" to get back to regular blogging - an alphabet of post.  This series will all be about autumn.)

Exit August

 

Phew, what a scorcher!  Our hottest day here was 13th August at 35C, well short of the 40C I recorded on 19th July 2022 but the heat has been much more prolonged this year.  Most of the cereal harvest was harvested in July, weeks ahead of the usual time.  And it has been much too hot to sit in the garden except in the evenings.  

But I have managed to do a few things.  I had planned days out at nature reserves and National Trust properties but couldn't risk the heat.  The best thing has been restarting swimming - we had to stop when oil prices meant the pool couldn't be heated and somehow we hadn't restarted but we have now - I've swum four times during August.

I've bought a new Trundle Truck.  This is a folding jobby which I will be able to take on some public transport, including trains.  I'm keeping the old one too as that is more robust and better suited to nipping around Caistor.

I've met with friends for coffee or lunch on eight occasions.  I'm definitely a lady wot lunches!

I went to a barbecue to celebrate the marriage of D & S.  I babysat D's brothers the night he was born over thirty eight years ago.  He was very ill and needed urgent surgery as soon as he was born so this was an occasion of real joy.

And I am again in demand to lead worship each Sunday.  It's the third time I have covered when this particular group has been without a regular vicar and I really queried if they wouldn't prefer a different priest rather than an old crock like me.  They are lovely: someone comes to help me carry my gear from the car and they put several chairs in strategic places so I can sit down when I want to.  In several churches they put a table so that I don't need to go up and down steps to the usual altar.  Preaching still brings me deep joy and I thank God for the care, appreciation and generosity of these lovely congregations.

Psalm for a home

May your doorbell ring as a welcome,

your home keep a couch for the weary,

and your table be open space

 for those out of place.

 

 May the kettle on in the kitchen be just boiled,

your living room rock with laughter,

and your phone be sometimes out of reach.

 

May your clothes be handed on,

your plants remind you to water them,

and the compost bin become your daily sermon.

 

May your car give people lifts

(may your neighbours names be known)

And your carbon footprint be gentle

whatever the road that rises to meet you

 

May you cherish each quiet space

and the paths you take into each day.

May goodness and mercy follow you

down each and every way.

 

(By Martin Wroe)

 

I found this in “Rooted in Love” by Diana E Carroll

August

 Each month the National Federation of Women's Institutes offers a drawing class on its website.  And each month I join in.

Yesterday the tutor led us in drawing a "fantasy" vegetable garden.  We drew peas, courgettes, lettuces, leeks, carrots, beetroot, spinach, kale, tomatoes and runner beans.

I'm no artist and I suspect Jack would have opinions to express if my garden looked like this, but I enjoy the session.  Maybe looking for all those veggies in my picture can be my equivalent of "Where's Wally?  

I've been thinking about wheelie bins

Well, my mind is never blank but my thoughts are sometimes rubbish!

I think it's about twenty years since I got my first wheelie bins and very glad I was to get them.  The black bags we had used previously were not exactly rat proof and any recycling had to be taken to a recycling site.  They were a great improvement.  

At first we had just two: a blue one for glass and plastics and a black one for everything else.  Both got pretty full despite the black one being emptied weekly and the blue one fortnightly.  

Then we got a green one for garden rubbish.  I used mine a little bit but I had a compost heap which I preferred.  These days I no longer have a compost heap (very small garden) and, even though we have to pay an annual fee for green bins, I'm very grateful for it and pay willingly.

Next was a black bin with a purple lid for paper and card.  We'd been putting card in our blue bins for a while but the fortnightly emptying had meant they didn't get over-full.  Now our plastics-and-glass bin would be emptied once every four weeks and the paper-and-card one also four weekly.  

Then came food waste caddies.  Weekly collections for these but mine never gets anywhere near full.

But, to get back to my thinking about the bins, I don't think any of them are getting as well fed as they used to with the exception of the paper-and-card jobby.  Somehow, almost imperceptibly, the amount of waste I create is diminishing.   I honestly think that it would take at least two months, possibly longer, to fill the black and blue bins.  (I'm not suggesting that for general waste which could get a bit smelly.)  The paper-and-card wheely wouldn't last nearly so long but I'm less worried by paper waste than plastic.

Has anyone else noticed this very long-term trend in waste reduction?  I'm not aware of any great change in my habits, just little bits and pieces.

PhD's for sale

Revd Elaine running the stall

I never thought I would write a title like that!  Not sure that I approve of my own blog.  

I belong a knitters group associated with several local churches and I knit scarves for homeless people while others knit blankets and twiddlemuffs for care homes, baby clothes for the local neonatal unit or teddy bears for the emergency services.  I'm not sure how many knitters are (loosely) connected with the group but it must be around fifteen to twenty.

Many knitters have a second hobby: acquiring wool or other craft stuff with the excellent intention of making something but somehow that never really happens.  The main result of those projects is a guilty conscience about a Project half Done (PhD), also known as an UnFinished Object (UFO).

So a sale of such things sounded like a good idea and we took a stall at a village fair to raise money to buy thermal clothing for homeless people and toiletries etc. for a women's refuge.  I sent some of my stuff.  Unfortunately I came home with wool for another hat!  Oops!

The first lady to come to the stall didn't buy anything.  Instead she gave a very generous donation and said, "Thank you for doing this.  I had to go to a women's refuge.  I could never thank them enough."

Made me think.

Bye bye, July.

"Magnetism - the line that runs from pole to pole beneath our feet"

I don't do hot!  Cold, I can cope.  Retreat to the hibernaculum, put on a few layers, have a hot drink, cold I can cope.  When it comes to hot there is a limit to how many layers I can remove.

Church-wise I've been a bit busy.  Every Sunday has found me on duty.  Then there was a midweek service, home communion and hosting and co-leading zoom services.  

I've had to visit Louth several times.  Louth is a market town about twenty miles from Caistor.  I'll do some posts about the place soon but here's a photo of a pavement!  Louth stands on the Greenwich Meridian, the intangible line which separates east from west.  I've discovered that there are four markers in Louth: maybe I will find them one day: this one is in the main shopping street.

I've had my usual round of lunches with friends.  Few of my friends live in Caistor so we go out and take advantage of lunchtime deals.  

My friend Diana Carroll has written/edited a collection of materials about love which has been published by Wild Goose Publications and I've been dipping in and out of it.  I also attended the launch (which was on-line) and a reading as part of the Wolds WordFest. 

But if I'm really being honest, what I've done most often is pretty well nothing.  Far too hot.  And I don't do hot.  

Twenty five years ago . . .

  . . . I was Chaplain to the High Sheriff of Lincolnshire. 

The "pirate" behind me is the High Sheriff, next is an usher, the presiding judge is red robed followed by the Chief Constable and a District Judge 

You may not have realised that such people as High Sheriffs exist!  It's one of the oldest  public offices, dating back to well before the Norman conquest.  These days it's very much a ceremonial office.  It's an honour to be chosen and it is unpaid - they can't even claim expenses which are not inconsiderable.  They serve for just one year before handing on to the next person.

The High Sheriff is the King's main representative for law and order in the county and is appointed by the King.  S/he welcomes the High Court judges, s/he encourages respect for the legal system and recognises the work of the police, fire and rescue, ambulance, prison and probation services.  S/he may also spend time visiting charities, youth groups etc.  In everything s/he represents the Crown, attending civic events, remembrance services and royal visits within the county.  They are not judges, they don't run the police service, they have no legal powers.  

And each has a chaplain which is where I came in.  In this county there is a Cathedral service each term in Lincoln for the opening of the Crown Court.  It was my duty to lead the prayers at that service and then process to the nearby courts to witness the formal opening.  I was a little shocked to find myself seated on the bench with the Judge!  The only other duty was to say Grace at lunches when the Sheriff entertained in his official capacity.

It was fun!  It afforded me the opportunity to see the administration of justice from a place which few people have seen.  I watched proceedings from a very privileged place and whenever we retired from the court the judges were very happy to answer my questions and help me understand what was going on (and why).  When my year was complete I left the role with great admiration for the work of the judicial system.