The Autumn Morning

As the morning breaks
Sleepy eyes pry open
Contemplating the day

Daylight awaits,
The traffic and sounds
Whispers and notions
Hints of commotion

Shades and hues
All waiting for cues
As the day urges to begin

The autumn leaves fall
Evergreens and leaves
All sounding their call

Yearning for beauty
Its beckon so strange,
Waiting and wishing
For something to change

I cannot help but think
That this feeling inside
this longing for something
just cannot abide.

So I give in to you, morning light
Arise and call out its name
You have me by the hand
Lead me wherever you please.

I am in your charge,
Crisp autumn wind,
Blow me to wherever you please.

Finishing a shift at 7 in the morning at different times comes different sentiments. There are those earnest longings for slumber, just craving to get some much needed shut-eye; and then there are those times, though seldom, that I greet the morning with expectation.You take a huge breath, the new day ahead and somehow it’s yours for the taking. As infrequent as this disposition is to me, I welcome it. I am not always this genial this time in the morning, my nature just doesn’t allow for it, thus I take what I can get.

So I finish work this morning, and due to certain misadventures from the night before- which I wont elaborate on- meant that I didn’t have my car and so needed to catch the train home. Admittedly, I usually hate catching public transport, especially so early in the morning, amidst the peak hour transit; although this time I was actually looking forward to it.

Perhaps it was in quiet veneration of the stillness of the morning, or just something purely out of character, because I am rarely this contemplative so early in the day; but I was eager to make the small detour home. Or perhaps it was the beautiful morning, I don’t know. It's funny how unexpectedly stunning the urban sprawl can sometimes be.

The morning fog was thick, shards of sunlight barely breaching through the misty air. Riding the train through the Harbour Bridge, its imposing iron beams were barely visible, almost as if we were just floating seamlessly though the foggy air. By the time I got to my stop, the fog had already cleared and the gentle warmth of the autumn sun was palpable. What made the journey home even sweeter was coming home to these biscuits.

I had forgotten that I had made them the day before and there they were waiting for me in the cookie jar- these little morsels of Lemon Lavender Sables. Lavender has such a calming effect and after doing a bout of night shifts, I knew that these biscuits were the perfect remedy along with a warm cup of tea. Blossoms are usually associated with springtime, although these biscuits are the perfect things to cosy up to on a mild autumn morning.

Full of flour and butter, these sables fall apart at the touch of your lips. It's the kind of biscuit that you never bite into unless you want a dune of crumbs to form on your lap. Delicate and light, it's hard to stop at just one. So I pry open the cookie jar, the scent of citrusy lavender hitting my nose immediately and there is nothing like it.

There is something about these biscuits that remind me of autumn, I cannot quite put my finger on it. This strange enchantment,whatever it is, has me spouting poetry and waxing lyrical about the morning. Really, when do I ever become quite as lyrical? Never. I will probably look back on this, a week later and cringe at the thought at how hospitable I was to the morning, but then again, I take what I can get.

Lavender Sables
adapted from a basic sable recipe from this book
makes 40 sables



225g plain all-purpose flour
25g cornstarch (cornflour)
1 tbsp dried lavender
200g unsalted butter, diced and at room temperature
100g icing (confectioner’s) sugar
2 egg yolks
pinch of salt

Sift the flour and cornflour into a food processor and stir in the dried lavender.
Add diced butter and sugar to the flour mixture.
Pulse for a few seconds until the mixture resembles coarse meal.
Add the egg yolks through the spout of the processor, while continuing to pulse the dough.
Make sure you do no over pulse the dough, and that it still should resemble coarse breadcrumbs.
Spoon the dough out onto a very lightly floured surface and divide into two portions.
Roll each portion out into a log and wrap in parchment paper.
Refrigerate for 2-3 hours or overnight if possible

Preheat oven to 170°C. Prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper
Remove 1 log from the fridge and cut the dough into 6mm discs.
Briefly knead the dough so that the discs stay together.
Place on baking sheet spaced 1-ince apart and bake for 10-12 minutes until just lightly browned on the edges.
Transfer sables onto a wire rack to cool.
Repeat process with second log.