To Autumn

"SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells." - Keats, To Autumn

A brief update: This had been a beautiful October. Now that Edward is back from his trips to London and Cincinnati, we have been enjoying the leaves and the unusually clement weather. One day we went to the park twice, just because it was so sunny.

Maria is getting close to her first birthday. She walks, climbs and chatters merrily. The only difficulties have arisen recently at night when she wakes up at 2:00am and is ready to play. We're not sure what to do about this. But last night Ed and I came to a complete concensus that somehow, someway this had to stop. So - tonight we are moving her to her own bedroom. This is quite drastic and Ed and I will be very tearful and lonely. Maria will probably be fine.