Mid-week and the rain is beginning to bring down the leaves. Like many, I find this a sad time of year as one waits for winter knowing that we must go through so many dreary months when nature seems to die. But that's the way of it, of course, and we have to got through all this in order to marvel and celebrate creations re-birth in the Spring.
Today is the Feast of Ss. Crispin and Crispinian, those two (French?) shoemakers who may have come to England but were martyred during the persecution of Diocletian. But their claim to fame, I guess, comes with Mr. Shakespeare and his immortal lines on the Battle of Agincourt:
'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. '