Something immense happened. Something made me take the leap into this baptism of light… Something. Something and everything washed over me. Life.
How is it that even brown wet leaves and dry straw can feel so very alive? We may think that Autumn is about decay, but today, I realised that simply is not the case. And if one had experienced my 60 minutes of Revelation, would one feel totally satisfied that one’s life had been totally immense? Today, Flora’s scribes, the giants, the trapeze artists, the charmers, hangers-on, party goers, and life’s strange creatures, all joined up. They came into their own. It was spontaneous reality, but it was also the planning of a pure vision. Golden glitterings sparkled down from above from the heavenly blue. May that yellowy golden glitter rain its eternal freshness on my memory.
When something so incredible happens, we are all so very gracefully indulged. And so today’s post can’t be helped, these pictures are the chronicle of that hour. And it has to be done indulgently. I can’t hold back. It happened today and it has to be passed on. If tonight is October’s full moon, this must be have been the day of the fullest sun.
Now its late, but the fire-eaters, those scribes of writings in the leaves, acrobats and trapeze artists are all here below, in order as taken. This post must now close In the Wonder of Yellow Rain of the Glittering Tree and tomorrow will be the Return of the Strange Creatures. Goodnight from the UK.
When a flower is dressing, a final reflection is everything. At any age, the sharpness of all defining truths revealed in morning light, commands a total respect for the company with one’s own image and the softness of complete privacy. Most especially in Autumn.
From Surrey to Stourbridge
One mirror was bestowed a reflective career on one bedroom mantelpiece in Surrey from 1966-2012. It was probably an original part of that house, built around 1910. In that bedroom, its role was to mirror the rising sky of the East and follow it to the West. During those latter and heady decades of the C20th, it followed the daily application of brilliantine on sensible short haircuts of middle aged men, watched the accuracy of mascara applied to teenage make-up, and witnessed enough hairspray from to stiffen the attention of a thousand heads to stone.
Through its glassy eye, it would overlook how the decades of nurtured English fruit trees and how childish play in the family garden chased butterflies through four generations. Certainly many gladioli grew here and at this time of year, the excitement of orange pumpkins.
Now positioned in the West Midlands, that mirror still glances the direction of the dawn, but 200 miles northwards. Through its 100 years of enlightening our image, did its viewers ever know, that especially when our backs turned, there is a always a view which the mirror will neatly illumine to others, that we all show our beautiful and colourful past literally on the very back of ourselves. The mirror reflects all.