Autumn In Avalon's Garden: October 2011

Fall Song

Another year gone, leaving everywhere its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves, the uneaten fruits crumbling damply in the shadows, unmattering back from the particular island of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere except underfoot, moldering in that black subterranean castle of unobservable mysteries - - -roots and sealed seeds and the wanderings of water. This I try to remember when time's measure painfully chafes, for instance when autumn flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing to stay - - - how everything lives, shifting from one bright vision to another, forever in these momentary pastures. - Mary Oliver

"Lady Autumn, Queen of the Harvest, I have seen You in the setting Sun with Your long auburn tresses blowing in the cool air that surrounds You. Your crown of golden leaves is jeweled with amber, amethyst, and rubies. Your long, flowing purple robe stretches across the horizon. In Your hands You hold the ripened fruits. At Your feet the squirrels gather acorns. Black crows perch on Your outstretched arms. All around You the leaves are falling. You sit upon Your throne and watch the dying fires of the setting Sun shine forth its final colors in the sky. The purple and orange lingers and glows like burning embers. Then all colors fade into the twilight. Lady Autumn, You are here at last. We thank You for Your rewards. We have worked hard for these gifts. Lady Autumn, now grant us peace and rest." - Deirdre Akins

Friday, October 28, 2011

All Souls Night ~

A thin moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:
It is only their call that comes on the breeze;
Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:
It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;
Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:
It is only the touch of their hands that grope -
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.

And where should a man bring his sweet to woo
But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?
Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,
The empty hands that their fellows miss,
Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,
Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.

And now that they rise and walk in the cold,
Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.
Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus
In the prime of the year it went with us!'
Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,
Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.

Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -
'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -
Just a thrill of the old remembered pains
To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,
Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,
As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -
For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,
When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'

And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

And how should we break faith who have seen
Those dead lips plight with the mist between,
And how forget, who have seen how soon
They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?
How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,
Who must do so soon as those others do?
For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,
And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .
Edith Wharton

All Souls Day is November 2nd ~

Autumn Blessings~

Angel

Monday, October 24, 2011

Cooper’s Gristmill ~

Hello Everyone ~

One of the things we did over the weekend was take a ride to Cooper’s Gristmill. It is situated next to the Black River which powers it. They give tours of the mill,,, but we just went more for the Autumn colors on this day.

Below; Walk thru the tunnel…….

And it brings you to the power source for the mill …….

From here on these are photos taken as we walk along the Black River ~ It wasn’t the sunniest of days , but listening to the river rush along was very peaceful ~

The days of Autumn color are running short, Enjoy them, for they will be gone soon~

Autumnal Blessings ~

Angel

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Bamboo Brook ~

Hello Everyone ~

This past weekend was just beautiful so we hit the road to catch some of the Autumn colors again. We stopped by Willowwood for a bit, then traveled on to their next door neighbor (just about a mile or so down the road), Bamboo Brook. I won’t get into a long drawn out history just a quick overview , then on to the pictures :)

Martha Brookes Hutcheson (October 2, 1871 – 1959) was an American landscape architect, lecturer, and author, active in New England, New York, and New Jersey.

Hutcheson was born in New York City as Martha Brookes Brown, and as a child spent her summers on a family farm near Burlington, Vermont. From 1893-1895 she studied at the New York School of Applied Design for Women, and in the late 1890s toured Europe where she studied gardens in England, France, and Italy. As Hutcheson later wrote in The Spirit of the Garden:

In 1900 she entered MIT's new landscape architecture program at age 29, where she studied for two years before leaving without degree in 1902. She subsequently designed the grounds of several residential estates near Boston, most notably Frederick Moseley's large Newburyport estate, 1904-1906 (now Maudslay State Park), and Alice Longfellow's Craigie House (now the Longfellow National Historic Site) in Cambridge.

After Hutcheson's marriage in 1911, she retired from commercial practice but she began to landscape her own garden (5 acres) on the couple's 100-acre (0.40 km²) farm in Gladstone, New Jersey. Its overall design was influenced by classical Italian gardens, featuring a pond enclosed by native plants, vegetable garden, flower borders, orchards, allées, and farm buildings. This farm, with garden, is now preserved as the Bamboo Brook Outdoor Education Center.

In 1935 she was named a fellow in the American Society of Landscape Architects, the third woman to receive this distinction. Although Hutcheson executed dozens of commissions, including gardens at Bennington College and Billings Farm (now the Marsh-Billings-Rockefeller National Historical Park), most of her works have been lost.

To Read more Bamboo Brook ;

Source: Wikipedia *

Smithsonian Institution Research Information System *

Mighty Garden *

Run mouse over pictures for captions ~

Water is captured from underground springs at the upper edges of the property, and gradually travels downhill.

Below; Garden Pool

Below; Path leading from Garden Pool to rear of Main House.

Below; Rear of Main House, this is where the Kitchen was located, and an Herb Garden outside.

Below; View from rear of Main House

To the right of gate, pathway leads to Potting Shed~ (once the daughter’s playhouse)

Below; Taking a peek thru the Potting Shed windows ……

Below; Lower level has potting benches & shelves and dry sink ……

Below; Just below the Potting Shed is the remains of what was a Gazebo, and behind the Gazebo a Tennis Court.

Below; Heading back toward the House ……

Below; To the left of the gate is a Shade Garden with a Stone bench

Below; Moss growing on stone wall …..

Below; The Little house was the new playhouse,,,, ( hubby & I thought this was the gardener’s cottage…. I don't know smile , nice to have $$…. just sayin…..)