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Autumn quotes12/24/2022 ![]() There ought to be gardens for all months in the year, in which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season.Īutumn is a season followed immediately by looking forward to Spring. The touch of frost on grass and window pane. Chilly mornings and glorious warm afternoons. Leaves scurrying down the street before the wind. The hazy, cloudless skies of Indian Summer. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. There is no season such delight can bring, as summer, autumn, winter and the spring.Īutumn is leaving - tugging each others' branches two pine trees.Ĭlimb the mountains and get their good tidings. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?Ĭirrus sky hawk drift, blue haze in the autumn air, and my mouth is dry. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. We'll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure.Īutumn is the eternal corrective. Then summer fades and passes and October comes. ![]() Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weather-cock, Blown every way. The milkweed pods are breaking, and the bits of silken down, float off upon the autumn breeze, across the meadows brown. Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves! The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter wools. There is a harmony in autumn, and a lustre in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been! Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. And at no season, safe perhaps in Daffodil time, do we get such superb colour effects as from August to November. In the garden, Autumn is, indeed the crowning glory of the year, bringing us the fruition of months of thought and care and toil. The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as autumn air. ![]() The foliage has been losing its freshness through the month of August, and here and there a yellow leaf shows itself like the first gray hair amidst the locks of a beauty who has seen one season too many.įall is my favorite season in Los Angeles, watching the birds change color and fall from the trees.Ī few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. I love it because of the smells that you speak of and also because things are dying, things that you don't have to take care of anymore, and the grass stops growing. So I spend almost all the daylight hours in the open air. I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits. Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. October's poplars are flaming torches lighting the way to winter. No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace, as I have seen in one autumnal face.īesides the autumn poets sing, a few prosaic days, a little this side of the snow, and that side of the haze. ![]() No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds - November! For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.ĭelicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.įor man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.īittersweet October. Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn. Yet our opinions have no permanence like autumn and winter, they gradually pass away. We cling to our own point of view, as though everything depended on it. ![]() You can't hide your true colours as you approach the autumn of your life. Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ![]()
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