This morning wasn’t your average September morning but then it hasn’t been your average September month. Usually September in Ireland is cold and rainy and growth in the garden is slowing or stopping.
This September has been very different, with very little rain I am still watering and still planting. Everything is looking lovely and lush though so even though I have an unexpected chore it’s worth it in exchange for the pure pleasure of having such great weather.
This morning when I looked out of the window I couldn’t see the back of the garden, never mind the mountains, everywhere I looked was misty. There there was also a slight touch of frost and it was this that drew my attention for it highlighted the fact that the entire garden was draped in a veil of cobwebs, or fairy-spun-silk to use their technical name.
The fairies sure had been busy. Actually I suspect they pulled off an all-nighter to put on this display.
THE SIGHT OF COBWEBS
It is not often I am moved to poetry but the sight of these cobwebs reached that part of me where poetry hides so I searched around for a verse or two of a fairy poem to go with the images but when I found this beautiful Louisa May Alcott piece I found I couldn’t choose just one verse so I included the whole thing. I hope you like it as much as I do.
FAIRY SONG by Louisa May Alcott
The moonlight fades from flower and tree,
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
‘Tis time for the Elves to go.
O’er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;–
For the stars’ soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell:
So ’tis time for the Elves to go.
From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where’er they go.
When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon’s soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon will glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.
This last cobweb puts me in mind of a fairy hammock – I mean look at it – could it be anything else?