Anyone lucky enough to have seen New England in the fall, or Autumn, knows what a spectacular display Nature puts on and anyone who lives in a country with seasons knows the joy of walking through golden fields, crunching dry leaves underfoot, caressing a shiny conker, or horse- chestnut, breathing in the first smoky scents and chill in the early morning air, the mists across the fields, the golden sun ever lower in the sky.
Here is a poem by the American poet John Greenleaf Whittaker ( 1807 - 1892) to accompany through the beautiful Autumn days.
The autumn time has come,
On woods that dream of bloom,
And over purpling vines,
The low sun fainter shines.
The aster flower is failing,
The hazel's gold is paling,
Yet overhead more near
The eternal stars appear.
And present gratitude
Insures the future's good,
And for the things I see
I trust the things to be;
Hope you like it!
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What beautiful photos, Angela. I like the poem although it suggests things fading rather than the riches I associate with autumn. In South Africa, where I lived for so many years, we didn't really have much in the way of autumn, but I loved the golden light of the lowering sun and how everything seemd to he bathed in it. By the way, I wanted to mention How much I like your new 'real you' profile picture on Facebook! You look lovely!
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