On a Toast to Autumn

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By definition, all seasons are a time of transition in the rhythm of life. Some see autumn as a start, after all, each school starts in autumn, yet it ends at the start of summer. To me, autumn is one of the more interesting seasons. Our temperatures vary, but I like the combination of warm by day, yet cool by night – yet, I don’t miss the long leaf-gathering ordeal of our previous address.

I built this post around three videos of fitting music will displaying the sights of the season. So think of the quotes as stepping-stones on your through the glories of the season. Which quote(s) do you like? Which music/video captured your attention?

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

My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. (Robert Frost)

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring. (Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s)

The spring, summer, is quite a hectic time for people in their lives, but then it comes to autumn, and to winter, and you can’t but help think back to the year that was, and then hopefully looking forward to the year that is approaching. (Enya)

There is a part of me that will forever want to be walking under autumn leaves, carrying a briefcase containing the works of Shakespeare and Yeats and a portable chess set. I will pass an old tree under which once on a summer night I lay on the grass with a fragrant young woman and we quoted E.E. Cummings back and forth. (Roger Ebert)

I trust in nature for the stable laws of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant and autumn garner to the end of time. (Robert Browning)

The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh. (Rumi)

Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile. (William Cullen Bryant, Indian Summer)

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.
Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?”
― Robert Frost (Gathering Leaves)