The temperatures here are still hovering in the low eighties, which means that our air conditioners are still hard at work for most of the afternoon. But the nights are slightly cooler and we've watched our first football games of the season, so it seems that autumn's arrival is inevitable.
Before trading in the sweet, summer peaches for crisp apples, we headed to a nearby beach for lobster rolls and I picked up a pint of blueberries from the farmer's market to bake into muffins.
For today's Photo Friday, here's an excerpt from the poem "Blueberries" by Robert Frost.
"You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
In the cavernous pail of the first one to come!
And all ripe together, not some of them green
And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen!"
"I don't know what part of the pasture you mean."
"You know where they cut off the woods--let me see--
It was two years ago--or no!--can it be
No longer than that?--and the following fall
The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall."
"Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow.
That's always the way with blueberries, though:
There may not have been the ghost of a sign
Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine,
But get the pine out of the way, you may burn
The pasture all over until not a fern
Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick,
And presto, they're up all around you as thick
And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick."