Autumn Equinox

Today is one of the turnings of the year, and between now and the beginning of winter, each day will begin a little later and end a little earlier, until, when the alarm clock goes off, we find ourselves groping for our bedroom slippers in darkness.

But there are some joys to be had during the days of shrinking sunlight: walks in the golden woods, candlelight, hot soup, bread fresh from the oven, and, of course, apples in every imaginable form. Just to look at one is a pleasure. And of course there is autumnal poetry, in which this poignant season abounds.

AppleMapleLeaf

To Autumn

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayst rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

‘The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.

‘The spirits of the air live on the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.’
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat;
Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

—William Blake

Bawdy Botany

LinnaeusDetail

Today is the birthday of the Prince of Binomial Nomenclature, otherwise known as Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), the Swedish naturalist who attracted crowds to his botanical lectures by openly discussing stamens, pistils, and other shocking intimate details of plant reproduction. For sketches and a mini-bio, please see Prince of Binomial Nomenclature.

CakePolkaDotsLiam

CakeWeddingSole & Jacob

CakeDaisiesSondra

Spring Is Near

Here is a sketch from recent wanderings, and below it a verse my daughter and I learned while experiencing the properties of numbers in first grade. Its delight and usefulness lie in its three-fold-ness: three verses, in anapestic (short-short-long) monometer, about a charming three-petaled flower. During the same block I taught her to waltz, and we danced around the room chanting this poem.

For another March 1st welcome, please see In Like a Lion.

SnowdropsEmilys

Snowdrops we
Petals three
You may see.

White, green, gold
We unfold
In the cold.

Words of cheer
Speak we clear:
Spring is near.

CakeYellowRoses2Polly

An Apple a Day

Apple-MapleLeaf

I post this painting today in memory of Steve Jobs. It’s an odd coincidence that his birthday follows the anniversary yesterday of the first printing of the Gutenberg Bible, another communications technology supernova to which the Apple computer, with its many offspring, is comparable. The ways in which we interact, work, and educate and entertain ourselves have been transformed through Steve Jobs’ vision, brilliance, and determination. He would have been 57 today.

CakeTomatoesKip

Vegetables

In honor of much-beloved poet and storyteller Eleanor Farjeon (1881-1965), whose birthday it is today, I post her poem “Vegetables” and a new painting.

For a brief bio and other Farjeon poetry, with accompanying paintings, please see Morning Has Broken and Cats.

Carrots&RedOnion

The country vegetables scorn
To lie about in shops,
They stand upright as they were born
In neatly-patterned crops;

And when you want your dinner you
Don’t buy it from a shelf,
You find a lettuce fresh with dew
And pull it for yourself;

You pick an apronful of peas
And shell them on the spot.
You cut a cabbage, if you please,
To pop into the pot.

The folk who their potatoes buy
From sacks before they sup,
Miss half of the potato’s joy,
And that’s to dig it up.

—Eleanor Farjeon

CakeChrysanthSara

Squash for Supper

Today is the birthday of my friend Susan, who is, an addition to her many other admirable qualities, a terrific cook. In her honor I post this painting and a recipe from her boundless repertoire. Susan makes it with acorn squash, but any of your favorite winter squashes would work just fine. On a cold autumn or winter evening it makes a lovely golden appearance on the table, with or without birthday candles. Happy birthday, Susan!

Squash&Chard

Susan’s Squash Pudding

Bake 1 whole acorn squash at 400º until soft when pricked, about 1 hour. Scoop flesh into mixing bowl. Add 2 T butter and salt to taste and beat for a few minutes. Add 1 box of corn muffin mix [alternatively, I use the blend from Moosewood Cookbook: 1 cup yellow corn meal, 1 cup unbleached white flour, 2 tsp. baking powder, ½ tsp baking soda, ½ tsp salt, to which I add 1/4 cup brown sugar]. Add 1 egg and 1 cup milk and mix until blended. Pour into a pretty 1-1/2 quart casserole dish, dot with 3 T butter, and bake at 375º for 30-40 minutes or until tester comes out clean. Serve immediately.

CakeBerries2Susan

 

It Works!

The Christmas before last, our friend Martha gave us a beautiful poinsettia plant that I repotted and set outside for the summer. It grew so large and bushy that, in November, I decided to try something I had never before attempted: getting it to bloom again.

PoinsettiaBuds

To achieve this, one must fool the innocent poinsettia into thinking it has been suddenly transported to, say, Reykjavik, by keeping it in complete darkness from 5pm to 8am for ten weeks. This would mean: 1. putting it into a dark closet, assuming there was space among the family shoes, umbrellas, and vacuum cleaner; or, 2. lugging it downstairs to the basement every night and remembering to bring it up each morning (ha!); or, 3. covering it with an opaque material.

I opted for the third option. Every night (well, that is, when I remembered), I immersed the long-suffering poinsettia in a double layer of trash bags—kind of like covering a bird cage—and removed them in the morning. I stopped before Christmas, by which time, according to the instructions, “you should see flower buds.” Hmmm. No flower buds. Oh, well, I thought, I suppose I forgot to cover it too many times, and I returned it to its sunny alcove with other wintering-over plants. What a lot of bother for nothing.

When I went to water the plants this week, lo and behold: there were BUDS, some of them beginning to open! I am thrilled, and ready to try it again next winter.

CakeRedRosesMegan

Yahrzeit3Sister Mary Daniel

Winter Apples

 

Apples-Cloth

Although branches are bare, and strawberries and peaches are a distant warm-weather memory, we are fortunate to be able to enjoy in the midst of winter the beautiful, varied, and ubiquitous apple: crisp and juicy when fresh, yet even after months of humble cellar-storage a shining star of the pie and the still-life. And, in my experience, pies from cellar-stored apples are superior to those made with fresh. But either is suitable for painting.

Today is the birthday of Peter Mark Roget (1779-1869), creator of the Thesaurus. For a sketch and a mini-bio, please see Man of Many Words.

CakeSnowmanMatilda

CakeBlackEyeSusanYahrzeit3Susan