by William Hook
"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."
"No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face."
there is something about autumn that awakens my soul. i feel alive. i feel fresh. i feel revived. just feeling the crisp, cool, bold air against my cheeks, making my hair fly wildly about my face. the fragrant smell of autumn , wood burning stoves, pine needles, and damp leaves. fresh cut hay, apple orchards, and the faint smell of rain; fills not only my lungs but every inch of me. the earth hold different colors in the fall, the soy bean fields all dry and dying waiting for the harvest are the most incredible shade of gold. the leaves are not just green, but every leaf renders itself a different color, a different shade. the sun setting sets the perfect mood, fills the earth with a glow of energy and life like it usually does not. the hazy glow of the sun complimenting the colors of emotion and life so perfectly.
there is something about autumn that calls me to books, and reading, and writing, and to music and art, and to experience nature.
there is something about autumn that gives me a hope, revives my summer stale soul. it awakens my senses, makes me aware and open and curious.
and i wish that every day were autumn, full of apples and pumpkins and freshly harvested hay. i wish that every day held the fire of emotion, and sense of hope i find in autumn days. i wish that everyday the sun shone high, and set low, and left a hazy warm glow on everything within its reach. i wish that easy to breathe air, desiring ti fill my lungs were here each and every day. i wish that i could wear my autumn sweaters and jeans and boots, and hoodies and sweatshirts and slippers every day of the year.
but if it were autumn every day, every single day.... would it still hold all its magic? wold it still be fresh and bold and new? would it hold hope and promises and sorrow? would i crave that fresh crisp air still? would i long for the color and and glow and the hazy? would i get tired of the perfect autumn breeze, and suns little warmth on my cheeks?
and i remember there are seasons for a reason, and autumn everyday would not be autumn at all. because what makes autumn so special is partially its rarity, it brevity, the question as to how long this autumn will really last, how much longer we can have this earthly perfection before that first horrid snow.
while i have autumn near, within the grasp oh my hands, i will hold it close, and breathe in deep, and admire the beauty all around. because far too soon it will disappear, leaving a layer of dead and cold and white, and a longing for next years autumn to return.
Lake George, Autumn, 1927
by Georgia O'keeffe
Gray ridged bark
Green lawn, leaf clutter underfoot
Wisps of fog off the pond
Splash of sunlight
Backdrop of blue
Pure, unblemished, unbroken
Screens, curtains, stagesets
By Raymond A Foss