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Tuesday, 17 September 2024

Season of mists

 

The mist blankets the marshy field like a thick duvet. Yet the air above harvested field beside it, dotted with pairs of straw-bale rolls, is clear and crisp.

And the road…the road traces a clear track beside the misty field, offering a crisp vista of what lies ahead.

‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’, wrote Keats in his Ode to Autumn. The mists swirl and the boughs hang low, bearing ripening apples which will be ready before the onslaught of winter.

May this be a day of mists and mellow fruitfulness. I am setting out on a retreat day, headed for a beach I know, looking forward to mists rising, roads being clear, and time to revel in the Father’s presence and receive his love.

May God bless your day, too, in this season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

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