PURPLE RAVELLING AND AMBER THREADS

She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
Oh, housewife in the evening west,
Come back, and dust the pond!

You dropped a purple ravelling in,
You dropped an amber thread;
And now you've littered all the East
With duds of emerald!

And still she plies her spotted brooms,
And still the aprons fly,
Till brooms fade softly into stars --
And then I come away.

                                                  Emily Dickinson


A gentle day, in spite of a frolicking wind.  Some people arrived unexpectedly and had an unprepared tour of the garden.  Untended and neglected as it is, it seemed to make them smile.


Dinner later with my son and heir - we greatly enjoy the weekly round up of his news.  This week there was some particularly good stuff to treasure.