I’ve made myself a beautiful scarf and matching fingerless gloves for singing at outdoor gigs over the winter months.
Fingerless so I can still turn pages if I need to.
I can’t remember where I found this poem but saved it to share sometime so here is is now. I especially love the last three lines. 
We’ve had an unusually warm start to November, blue skies and bright sun, but tonight’s weather forecast for the next few days includes a warning for snow and ice even here in Cornwall. 
This poem by Theodore Roethke seemed a good choice for tonight.
The Coming of The Cold – Theodore Roethke
The ribs of leaves lie in the dust,
The beak of frost has pecked the bough,
The briar bears its thorn, and drought
Has left its ravage on the field.
The season’s wreckage lies about,
Late autumn fruit is rotted now.
All shade is lean, the antic branch
Jerks skyward at the touch of wind,
Dense trees no longer hold the light,
The hedge and orchard grove are thinned.
The dank bark dries beneath the sun,
The last of harvesting is done.All things are brought to barn and fold.
The oak leaves strain to be unbound,
The sky turns dark, the year grows old,
The buds draw in before the cold.The small brook dies within its bed;
The stem that holds the bee is prone;
Old hedgerows keep the leaves; the phlox,
That late autumnal bloom, is dead.All summer green is now undone:
The hills are grey, the trees are bare,
The mould upon the branch is dry,
The fields are harsh and bare, the rocks
Gleam sharply on the narrow sight.
The land is desolate, the sun
No longer gilds the scene at noon;
Winds gather in the north and blow
Bleak clouds across the heavy sky,
And frost is marrow-cold, and soon
Winds bring a fine and bitter snow.
No Roots for me today, still under par, but I did send along the lemon cake I made last week which has been in the freezer waiting. A lovely volunteer kindly came to collect the cake this morning on his way to Community Roots. Thanks, M.
A sore throat kept me away from singing this afternoon, not wishing to share any germs, but I did make a lemon cake for tomorrow’s volunteers.
John Dryden has the right idea here, live each day for itself. It’s a skill I am trying hard to master.
I like checking Sandi Toskvig’s Almanac from time to time. Here is today’s entry and a link to the music Sandi suggests. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1OJvqKNGg4 
Our very talented, local knitter has been busy again and made a wonderful topper for today.
We wear white poppies in remembrance of all victims of war – the wars happening now, the civilians and the refugees and as a commitment to peace. The white poppy is also worn to challenge militarism and any attempt to glorify or celebrate war. I was pleased to see a white poppy included in the topper.
I found a poem about Peace for today and first found this one attributed to Mary Oliver. Here it says that was wrong, it is a poem by Judyth Hill. Thank you for this.
Wage Peace
By Judyth Hill*
Wage peace with your breath.
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen
and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.Wage peace with your listening:
hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools:
flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.Make soup.
Play music, learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Celebrate today.* Sometimes mistakenly attributed to Mary Oliver
I was dead-heading the Cosmos this morning when a bee came to visit even this late in October.
We have made Carrie’s Date Slice for coffee time tomorrow. Here it is, just gone into the oven.
I’ve another Mary Oliver poem for you. Every one of hers that I read hits a chord.
Our clocks went back overnight and it really feels like autumn outside though the geraniums still have flowers.
I made Blueberry Compote today to have on autumnal breakfasts of waffles or porridge.
And a pleasing poem about Autumn for you.
A friend of our son’s. Deasy Bamford, shared a poem she wrote yesterday and she has given me permission to share it with you. It touched me deeply.
by Deasy Bamford
We have volunteered a few times at The Ladder in town, painting the inside, helping with the planting of the garden at the back and today the volunteer force were called in again. There has been scaffolding up for a long, long time as the roof has been being repaired and weeds have had a field day! A whole bunch of people turned up and tidied everything up. I did one small patch and here are the before and after photos.
We picked the last raspberries from our allotment this afternoon.
Before going in to sing this morning, this beautiful sight greeted us. 
It being National Poetry Day, I’ve just spent a happy half hour reading poems and finding one for you, Dear Reader, to mark the day. I’ve chosen this one from the book, Being Human edited by Neil Astley, a wonderful collection.. It seems to me to be just right for the time we are in right now.
It’s October 2nd, a family date always remembered as it’s my older brother’s birthday, more poignant today as he died suddenly in July. 
I was saddened to hear of the death of Brian Patten whose poems I have shared many times on here. We were lucky enough to meet him many years ago and what a lovely man he was. If you put his name in my search, you’ll find lots of his beautiful writing. The following one is particularly apt right now and is the one I shared when our lovely neighbour Bill Mitchell died seven years ago
It ‘s the start of the month and time for this month’s Happiness Calendar, Optimistic October.
In fact, the Chicken and Leek pie doesn’t look very beautiful but it tasted delicious!
Chicken and Leek Pot Pie
Commentator Award
