By Carl Sandburg I spot the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins. On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon; I am a jack-o’-lantern With terrible teeth And the children know I am fooling.
Weekend Coffee Share is a time for us to take a break out of our lives and enjoy some timely catching up with friends (old and new)! To join, al l you need to do is create a post and link to Eclectic Ali
If we were having coffee, I’d suggest we enjoy it outside where we could see some of the brilliant foliage. Then afterwards, I’d offer to show you some of the Halloween decorations that are appearing around town.
I’d tell you that work has continued. We were to end September 30th, then October 5th and now the 31st, though we’re just scheduled till the 19th. All summer we got our schedule one week at a time so that’s nothing enw.
I’d mention that I watched the US Vice Presidential Debates and found them more coherent as there fewer interruptions. The moderator was better.
I’m enjoying Man of the World starring William Powell and Carole Lombard – review to follow. It’s a story of an American con man in France, who meets an heiress.
The Which Way Challenge, that Cee began, has been picked up by the Alive and Trekking blogger. The beauty of it is that it’s free form. You can include images of doors, gates, roads, streets, exits, signs, paths, waterways, you name it.
My photos this week are from my walk through the Chicago Botanical Gardens today.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish’ d by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.