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Living, loving and leaving

So much has been happening lately that I have a massive backlog of recently-snapped images to share (not to mention the small mountain of American photos yet to be shared).

But I am away from home and having an enforced rest at the moment (or at least for the next couple of hours) so I chose this little series of photos taken late last week.  Because if I leave it any longer (pun intended) the changing of the season will be done and dusted and Winter will have thrown her frosty blanket over the landscape…

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And the leaves that are now changing from green to russett will have fallen to the ground.  I adore Autumn (Fall for you North Americans) – ours has arrived quite late this year with the leaves only just beginning to change colour and crisp as June arrives.

 I can never understand why Autumn traditionally represents something sad, something finishing.

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Like ‘Autumn Song’ by English poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti:

Know’st thou not at the fall of the leaf
How the heart feels a languid grief
Laid on it for a covering,
And how sleep seems a goodly thing
In Autumn at the fall of the leaf?

Gosh, how depressing! 

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And The Moody Blues Forever Autumn:

Like the SUN through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on the breeze you blew away

Autumn Song by American Henry Harris Aubrey Beach wasn’t quite so drear:

Now the goldenrod is swinging
Radiant in the air,
The wild grape still is clinging
High inpurple rare.
Ah!

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I searched for some more upbeat autumnal references and found very few. 

To me, you see, Autumn is a time for dancing leaves and sweet cool breezes.  A season of gentle sunshine and early evenings and time spent quietening my little weaner bulls.  Clear clean cyan skies and earthy reds and terracottas bursting over the softening green in random little celebrations.

Does anyone else out there love this season as I do? 

Do you know of some upbeat Autumn songs or poems? 

Please do share in comments…

12 Comments

  • debby

    You know, BB, the oldest man in America just died in Montana, and he was quite a charactor. As I read about him, I wished that I had known him. But when asked what he attributed his long life to, he replied, to the effect of “I have always welcomed change. Some people are scared of it. I always thought it was exciting, and I looked forward to changes.” He’s on to something, I think. I read about him, and made up my mind to welcome change. To celebrate it, as well. So grab the chardy woman, pull out a glass and plop down. Toast autumn. Celebrate it, and any other changes that come along.
    debby´s last blog post ..Been to my thinking spot

  • Kelly

    Autumn, Fall…whatever it’s called…. has always been a favorite of mine. I have a fall birthday! Also, it marked the beginning of school and I was the little geek that loved new school supplies, etc. etc.

    Beautiful fall photos! We’ve jumped right into SUMMER!
    Kelly´s last blog post ..Random stuff

  • Scotty

    Yep, I like Autumn too, BB.

    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.
    George Eliot

    Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
    Albert Camus

    Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile.
    William Cullen Bryant
    Scotty´s last blog post ..Love Is Now Definable With Maths

  • Leenie

    You’re right! Autumn is a beautiful, fruitful time of year…my favorite. Don’t forget Keats’ “To Autumn” that one says it all. Hope your “enforced rest” doesn’t mean medical problems. If so…get well soon.
    Leenie´s last blog post ..JACKSON SHOPPING

  • Bush Babe

    Leenie – that poem is so fantastic I thought I’d share the first part here:

    TO AUTUMN.
    SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
    Conspiring with him how to load and bless
    With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
    To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
    With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
    And still more, later flowers for the bees,
    Until they think warm days will never cease,
    For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

    Link to full poem: http://www.potw.org/archive/potw279.html

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