Misadventures of the Monster Librarian

Today was one of those ridiculously gorgeous fall days: blustery, wind sending leaves skittering across roads; a blue sky with wisps of cloud, a background to a warm sun; a just-cool-enough-for-sweaters-and jeans kind of day. And things are finally drying out after all the rain...and yet I found (and chose to walk) one of the soppiest cow paths through the woods, to my gardens. The path was glorious in its filthy, muckiness and solitary shade. We seem to think of fall as the dying season, where things are packed up and put away, set aside to be rationed out in the winter; and yet today's walk was proof of all that is still thriving and present. While the gardens are sad shells of their former glory, I focused instead on the mossy hill, the scent of wild mountain thyme, crushed and almost palatable in the very aroma rising from under my feet. I snuffed at handfuls of it, interspersing the smell with deep draughts of the fresh farm fall air. I walked the hill--where months before b...

April, the U.S.'s National Month of Poetry is over, but I just had to post this lovely poem by Keats to really wrap things up. You may remember the opening line of this poem is quoted in "Bridget Jones' Diary"--ah, Hugh Grant, you cad! "To Autumn" Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring Conspiring Working together; literally, to conspire is “to breathe together” ( OED ) with him how to load and bless Conspiring Working together; literally, to conspire is “to breathe together” ( OED )    With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves thatch-eves Thatch-eaves, the edge of thatched roofs run; thatch-eves Thatch-eaves, the edge of thatched roofs To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;       To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells    With a sweet kernel; to set budding ...