Apples, Autumn and Dwarves

Autumn Harvest , Ruth Elassar

We have picked the lot of the apples on our property and Anders made A LOT of applesauce, and a wonderful apple cake involving, well, applesauce, and a cake lid made up of ground almonds, a la Jamie Oliver's Plum and Almond Tart (which is dangerously good btw!)

Last of the apples. Notice the kid nibbled ones. 

Rural living: escaped sheep in the garden.

I have hung up a board. But what to hang on it? Current songs and poetry!
This weeks poem: Come little Leaves, from A Journey Through Time with Verse and Rhyme.

Wonderful collection of verse. 

The book also contains quite a few for Michaelsmas, which has just passed with dragons and jewels and quests. Among others, JR Tolkiens epic "Over the Misty Mountains", which I am going to clip in here for you to understand what I speak of:

Far over the Misty Mountains cold, 

To dungeons deep and caverns old, 

We must away, ere break of day, 

To seek our pale enchanted gold. 

For ancient king and elvish lord 

There many a gleaming golden hoard 

They shaped and wrought, and light they caught, 

To hide in gems on hilt of sword. 

On silver necklaces they strung 

The flowering stars, on crowns they hung 

The dragon-fire, on twisted wire 

They meshed the light of moon and sun. 

Far over the Misty Mountains cold, 

To dungeons deep and caverns old, 

We must away, ere break of day, 

To claim our long-forgotten gold. 

Goblets they carved there for themselves, 

And harps of gold, where no man delves 

There lay they long, and many a song 

Was sung unheard by men or elves. 

The bells were ringing in the dale, 

And men looked up with faces pale. 

The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire, 

Laid low their towers and houses frail. 

The mountain smoked beneath the moon. 

The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom. 

They fled the hall to dying fall 

Beneath his feet, beneath the moon. 

Far over the Misty Mountains grim, 

To dungeons deep and caverns dim, 

We must away, ere break of day, 

To win our harps and gold from him! 

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell 

In glades beneath the misty fell. 

Through moor and waste we ride in haste, 

And whither then we cannot tell. 

We must away! We must away! 

We ride before the break of day!

I love Tolkien. I look forward to the day I can read for my children. I think my dad read the Hobbit to me, quite young, but how young? I don't know. Ten years old? Maybe younger. I have to admit I loved the Lord of The Rings films as well, but they are definitely not for children, . The books on the other hand are exquisite. Reading this poem again has reminded me how important verse, poetry and words are. And I believe young children benefit from hearing it, even though they do not understand, the flow of the voice, the beautiful words are enough. And they listen, they move around, but they listen.

Speaking of dwarves, we made a few of our own, since we figured our dwarf of the day was getting a little lonely in his underground house, with only nuts and silly hedgehogs to talk to all day. It took about ten minutes, plus time for the glue to dry overnight. I found the idea in small craft book for gnomes, but I just cut the jackets by freehand and sowed them up with each kid hanging around my neck. Sorry, no pictures of cute little ones putting wool on their little autumn gnome, due to the dangers of picking up a camera in close proximity to glue, scissors and needles.

Two bodies in the making.

Four little gnomes waiting for a beard.

Busy gnomes on a walk outside on the October Table.

Mother Earth welcoming all the flower children home.
Jasmin's reenactment of the Root Children story.