Autumn's Glory

From the time I was a child, autumn has always been my favorite season. I grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where the fall leaves in my neighborhood regularly changed color from green to shades of gold, orange or red. Every fall, my father would load us all in the car then drive out of town on the Pennsylvania Turnpike to see the dramatic colors of the trees in the Allegheny Mountains. I never grew tired of nature's autumn glory, and I still haven't.

For many years now my home has been Southern California, where fall color, what little we get of it, often arrives in December if at all. It's now that I miss my home state and long for some of that beautiful color.

For your enjoyment, ere are two of my favorite autumn poems:

The Name Of It Is "Autumn"

by Emily Dickinson

The name of it is "Autumn"
The hue of it is Blood
An Artery upon the Hill
A Vein along the Road

Great Globules in the Alleys
And Oh, the Shower of Stain
When Winds upset the Basin
And spill the Scarlet Rain

It sprinkles Bonnets far below
It gathers ruddy Pools
Then eddies like a Rose away
Upon Vermilion Wheels



A Vagabond Song

By William Bliss Carman

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.


What's your favorite season?

Linda