Signs of the Times

The Fat Witch Bakery in Chelsea Market celebrates the season.



As does a restaurant on 5th Avenue.
So, what with approaching Halloweeen and total financial meltdown, what have we to do but make merry?



I went to buy Halloween cards at the best card shop in the world where the windows were filled with interesting creatures.



For some reason, dancing seems very attractive right now. We danced to the German oompah band last Sunday upstate.
The black-clad figure enjoys herself - pity about the blue feet in front of her face.



Mr. Yellow seems cheerful in spite of the skulls.

Welcome Home

Glorious weather yesterday for bike riding along the Hudson.
Here buildings in the financial district against a blue-blue sky.



Dramatic, stunning and moderne.



So, on Saturday early evening, we were sitting minding our own business when there came loud wailings of sirens.
There are always loud wailings.
As good New Yorkers, we don't take any notice and continue watching TV.


Then, for whatever reason, R looked out of the window onto 24th Street.
Lo and behold, 17 firetrucks and smoke coming out of PennSouth. Great excitement and many rubberneckers.
No one hurt.
Therefore we can enjoy the show.



A ladder to the offending apartment. Windows smashed. Tinkle of falling glass. Billowings of smoke.
Nasty smell.
A man carrying his cat on the street. The cat was calm and did not scratch him or run away.
Everyone in a pretty good mood, all in all.

A Last Look at the Garden

Although I'm back in New York, I'm reluctant to leave England.
As Sarah Laurence puts it, I've got blog-lag.



This little thatched hut/shack/folly which houses croquet mallets and such like
might be a home for a hermit - or a hobbit.



He could sit under the horse chestnut tree and wait for conkers to drop on his head and look out through the mist to cows on the horizon.



Or he could plan what to do with the very large stone ball outside his door.
Suggestions anyone?



Or he could wander down the garden path and think what plant should be put in the urn.



At the back door to the main house, a metal bucket waits to be filled with useful things.

London as a Tourist

This is also for Mrs.Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday.
See side bar for link.



I much prefer buses to the tube. You get to see lots more things.
I enjoyed being a tourist and going round Trafalgar Square.



The lion looks very noble.



I had fun taking pictures of Susanna's winged message.



This Charing Cross station.



Fall/autumn is here.

West Square and The Imperial War Museum

One of the most civilized urban designs is the square, where houses look onto a common garden or small park.
West Square in south London is an excellent example.



There is enough space for trees, benches and flower beds.



Here a mossy staircase rises towards a blank wall.



If one looks down one discovers basement window-box gardens.



The Imperial War Museum is alternately fascinating and chilling.
The exhibition The Children's War, brought to life the experience of British children between 1939-45. It's not on any more.
Here a suitcase packed with the clothing required for a little boy evacuated out of danger.



Aeroplanes are suspended from the ceiling and seen from the viewpoint of a civilian.



I met Lyn Smith whose book, Young Voices: British Children Remember the Second World War, published by Penguin, makes gripping reading.

London Light/Shadow Shot Sunday

In late September, England had its best, and almost only, bit of summer.
Instead of being gray and overcast, things were bright and sunny.



The glass door knob glittered with light.



But it's better to have lots of umbrellas at the ready just in case.



A cat flap in the door and French windows..........



..........and a bench in a sunny spot to grab sunshine whenever you can.

Fantasy Camp and the Village Shop

I understand that some middle-aged men who, like most of their contemporaries, never made it to the big leagues pay to go to 'Fantasy' baseball camps where they put on uniforms and rush about pretending to live the baseball life.
It is the fantasy of many middle-aged women to live in an English country village.


Needless to say, I did not pay but merely went to stay with a friend who included me in all her activities.
These included decorating the church for Harvest Festival and helping out at the village shop.



Needless to say as well, the effort at the top was not done by us but someone much more accomplished.
These are bits we used in a bigger wilder (messier?) effort which included vegetables.



I still think the picture at the top is quintessentially fall/autumn.



The village shop is manned/womaned by a rota of volunteers. I'm not sure if it would survive without them.
We did the 9-11am stint on Sunday morning.
Here we are helped with the cash register. I hadn't worked in a shop since scanners and bar codes were invented.
In my day you had to work out the change yourself. Now it tells you. Hm......no math required.



The stock in the shop was wonderful. Anglophile foodies -if they exist - will discern
Marmite/Branston Pickles/Saxa Salt/Birds Custard/ HP Sauce and Carr's Water Biscuits amongst other things.
You can also buy Pinot Grigio and Pain au chocolat which weren't available in the village shops of my youth.



This is me as a trainee shop assistant. Maybe, if the economy continues to tank, this is a new career opportunity. In the long run, I would prefer a bookshop.



This cheery little boy offered to pose as a satisfied customer.

Note: Blogging allows us to make contact with all sorts of worlds both horribly sad and relentlessly cheerful.
My friend Maryam is currently in Rwanda. I recommend her deeply moving recent posts. Not for those who prefer to keep their heads in the sand.
What Possessed Me, on the other hand, has a picture to make you smile.

In An English Country Garden/Ecological Day

Sonia of Leaves of Grass who blogs from Brasil hosts Ecological Day on the 2nd day of each month.
Go to her blog here to see other participants.


The church and thatched cottages are visible from the walled garden.



It is best if a walled garden has a gate to look through and is flanked by a fig tree.



A stone bench supported by stoic lions provides a suitable place to rest.



A wheelbarrow is necessary to transport the garnered goodies the garden provides.



Solar drying improves the smell of the clothes and looks tres charmant.



Even in late September the sedum and Michaelmas daisies provide color.



The path is made of stones set on their sides.

England

To me, England is about landscape. On the whole a very gentle one with mists and subtle interplay of light and shadow.
It is about trees and clouds and grass.



All these pictures were taken within a span of three days and all pretty much of the same place - looking out from the garden towards the cow field and beyond that to the fields where hay had been baled, and one field where maize was still growing.



The topiaried trees show a hint of French influence and remain architectural even in winter.



Mist forms in the hollows of the land and above streams and burns off during the day.



In the morning it's mysterious, shrouding the earth.