Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

I've just put the thicker duvet on the bed. Temperatures are down to a maximum of around 27ºC, minimums about 12ºC. The almonds are in, they're picking the grapes.

The picture is from our garden last week at about 7.30am




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.