Monday, 18th September, 2017
'September' ... ... nearly 200 years on from John Clare’s ‘September’ (with the usual caveats re reading rhythm - JC's words / lines in italics).
For many people in the UK - perhaps most - September engenders varying degrees of melancholy.
September - all feels different: An emotional transition … A sweet-sad melancholy ... An accepting … A submission …
September - and it’s school again: An end to Summer play ... Children back in classrooms ... Lessons underway ...
September - John Clare’s village: No “idle boys resort” To seeking nests and flowers of birds and bees In random, thoughtless sport.
“None but imprison’d children now ... Where dames with angry brow Threaten each younker to his seat That thro’ the school door eyes the street.”
September - John Clare’s village: “The harvest waggons sound, Rumbling down the dusty road Like thunder all around.”
September - and “the stack thronged yard”: The harvest fields are clear, Lying silent until plough-time Starts another growing year ...
“Then comes the harvest supper night Which rustics welcome with delight When merry game and tiresome tale And songs increasing with the ale ….”
‘Then comes the Harvest Supper.’ ‘Harvest Supper’ - love that phrase! Embedded in my consciousness Since early childhood days.
Two simple words of magic, Conjuring delight, Knowing that the work is done - And everything’s alright ...
As Summer turns to Autumn ... And all’s been gathered in; As Autumn hints of Winter-time ... And longer nights begin.
But Harvest Supper … ? Really … ? Now … ? There’s barely any reason For communal celebration At the end of harvest season.
We buy our food … We eat it ... And then we buy some more ... Others … Somewhere … Grow it … Sell ... To shop or superstore …
It is perpetual harvest In both near and distant lands: Across the world the food is grown To service our demands.
Yet the flame of ‘Harvest Supper’ lives: It gently flickers on, As an image of good company, Of story, feast and song!
Of welcome and acceptance That we share the one endeavour: To sow a common future - And to harvest it together.
John Clare’s Harvest Supper? All of this - but so much more: Relief ... delight … and comfort ... Knowing grain is in the store.
It’s a village celebration ... It’s ‘The Harvest’s Over Show’! It’s a time to let your hair down ... It’s a longed-for letting go …
“Thus harvest ends its busy reign And leaves the fields their peace again …. But hollow winds and tumbling floods And humming showers and moaning woods All startle into sudden strife And wake a mighty song to life.”
“Hollow winds and tumbling floods!! And humming showers and moaning woods!!”
They will come, as we well know -
Not to mention frost and snow: How often, and to what degree, We’ll simply have to wait and see ...
(Concluding with the first verse of a well-known 'old' song.)
“The leaves of brown came tumbling down - Remember, in September, in the rain: The sun went out just like a dying ember - That September, in the rain.”
