Idle in the Meadow

A thin coolness drifts across the surface of the soil.
The morning chill has returned,
the kind of air I have long missed.

The first days of autumn…
Rosehip, wild blackberry,
and red hawthorn.
Among my favorites.

The mountains wake with crocus, wild hyacinth, and cyclamen.
In the meadows, there are still dry grasses left from summer;
some have already found their place
inside glass domes.

The sun still warms,
but the color of the leaves has begun to change.
The olives stand on the edge of ripening;
soon we will begin to gather them.
From time to time, the wind turns cool,
reminding us of the winter to come.

The soil still feels dry,
yet deep within,
it seems to be preparing for something.

Birdsong has grown louder these days.
Perhaps migration has begun,
who knows.

Morning now arrives a little later,
yet at the foot of the old stone wall,
rosemary is still in bloom.

All the wildflowers of the season
await on the Wild Flowers of Türkiye page.

The dried grasses and tiny twigs,
the little remnants of the trails,
rest quietly in glass jars
within the Cabinet of Curiosities.

Another season has been written
into the garden’s notebook
quietly, slowly
like a leaf falling to the ground.

Things begin to take shape on their own,
and in October the olives ripen.
The table olives are chosen with care,
and a faint olive scent lingers on the palms.

November passes with quiet preparations.
Our search for pine mushrooms and saffron milk caps
falls in these days
and every mushroom that drops into the basket
adds a small story to the season.
I added a few photos
of what we gathered this year.

And then, just as in the kitchens of the Shire,
a slow morning begins in our home too.

The slice of bread on the table
is dressed with the soft glow
of butter-warmed grapes
simple, yet exactly like an autumn morning.

For more notes, recipes,
and stories that wander toward the table,
you can visit the Second Breakfast page.

Olive-oil soap experiments, new blends of oils
and the slow, unhurried pace of making…

Some days I tidy my jars,
some days I follow the trail of a new recipe.

This season, I am focusing on cold-process soaps
crafted with olive oil.

I prepared a four-piece set
made with red clay, green clay, pink clay and a mixed blend.
Alongside these,
I made a small Black Magick face bar
and a simple solid dish soap for the kitchen.

I kept small notes on the preparation of the mixtures,
temperature balance, molding stages
and the slow curing process.
I also recorded the variations and subtle texture changes
that appeared along the way.

A few photos and stages are shown below.
More detailed steps, formulas
and technical notes
can be found in the Atelier  section.

Moments colored by a bit of music,
small stories gathered along the road,
a film that suits the late afternoon,
a book you quietly pull from the shelf.
These are the gentle rituals of the season,
and none of them ever ask for haste.

My idle rituals remain as simple as ever.
Lighting a candle, sipping something warm by the window,
and letting a touch of soft jazz
blend into the quiet of the room.

Sometimes I write a few lines,
sometimes I leave a small drawing on the page.
Then I photograph these calm moments
before they slip into the day.
These little pauses shape the day
far more than I expect
like a slow breath,
like a warm cup,
small efforts that ask for nothing
yet leave behind
a soft and lingering light.

For now, autumn moves gently.

✧ Movies
• The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (2018)
• Julie & Julia (2009)
• About Time (2013)

✧ Music
Oscar Peterson – Tea for Two
Agnes Obel – Under Giant Trees
Howard Shore – Bag End

Calm Jazzzz – Spotify’da dinlemek için tıklayın.

✧ Books
• Hiçbir Şey Yapmama Günü
Original (FR): Un Grand Jour de Rien
On a Magical Do-Nothing Day
Beatrice Alemagna

• Olli’s Lost Kitten
Nicola Killen

• Le Cabinet de Curiosités
A Parisian Cabinet of Curiosities
Deyrolle

Gathered beneath The Old Oakshade Readers’ Society,
this quiet coven’s chosen books
await below with gentle notes and accompanying photographs.

One leaf fell, another turned to gold,
and a kettle murmured softly
in the window of a distant home.
And through each of these lines you wandered,
pausing at every word,
gently studying the photographs.

Now this page is slowly closing
yet when the new season arrives
the tale will find its way again
and tap softly at your door.

And know that the tender steps of autumn
will stay with you a little longer. 🍂🌙

For now
leave your shoes by the door.
Silence your phone.
Take a deep breath.
Let your thoughts settle softly.
Simply sit
and let the meadow’s quiet, gentle magic
gather around you.

Thank you, wanderer,
for walking these paths with me.
And it is a comfort to know
that even while doing nothing at all
the world keeps turning
softly.

✨
Until we meet again
in the next breeze.

🌿
With love from the meadow
Autumn ’25