I’ve just cut the grass, again. And it’s November 4th, not a time I’d normally be mowing! On the Druid Network forums there’s been a playful debate on when Autumn and Winter start and end. If Yule Solstice is ‘mid-winter’ then it’s almost certainly winter now, but that’s nonsense – I’ve had butterflies flitting around me as I garden, and the roses are in bloom again, and only this week I was buzzed by a couple of bumble-bees… Madness.
Global warming effect or no, if Keats’
‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run.’
is wrong, then perhaps Shakespear’s Hamlet had it:
‘The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!’
It’s still all in our hands…
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