Hushed Autumnal morning mild.
The hours crept by slow.
Impede the sun with gentle mist.
Your fruit harvested or else lost.
From our friend’s field of pumpkins into the bakery, we surrounded ourselves with whisks, flour, measuring cups and more. Autumn is upon us, as is her bounty, and we intend to use these fruits to the best of our abilities. To kick off the season, we’ve oven-roasted our pumpkins, the seeds within, and baked a spiced pumpkin bread, bringing you a lovely piece of fall in every bite.
A lovely day in the bakery and a lovely day in the community at the Fort Bragg Farmers’ Market. Thanks for all of your support.
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain’d
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may’st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
“The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.
“The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.”
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.