If I were a bird I’d be flying south
It’s officially autumn. I hope that you are enjoying an equally bracing September morning wherever you are today – we are chipper and crisp here in not-quite-London.
I’ve been doing my best blue-arsed fly impression, busily buzzing about hither, but mostly thither. When I wasn’t hand-wringing the omega 3 oils from a mackerel I was covering chair seats and baking puddings in readiness for the arrival of good friends. Not sure that fancy creamy confections count as a creative piece.
So as there was no time to draw or paint anything, a rummage through my photos from last year produced this seasonally apt photograph, which I again tweaked with Adobe Fireworks. The poem is also mine, forsooth.