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 which 'round the thatch-eaves run,
To bend with apples the mossed cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core,
To swell the gourd and plump the hazel shell
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 hath o'er-brimmed their clammy cells.
Thank you, John Keats. That's the first stanza of "To Autumn," typed from memory, so there may be a glitch or two from published versions.
"Bide-A-Wee" is what we call the little cabin we put on our Wisconsin land. It's Scottish and means "rest a while." Melinda came up with it. It seems to fit, especially the "wee" part.
Copyright 2008 by Brett Laidlaw