Even Shakespeare created a Sonnet for Autumn...
I wanted to post some lovely and leafy photos of Autumn for you, but their was a slight problem in the loading. That made me realize, that you can paint pictures with words.
It didn't matter that the weather was overcast and rainy, because the vivacity of the yellows and oranges was breathtaking and went right to the heart of the matter...causing a giddy sense of happiness.
Walking through our forest made me wonder how many generations before me had had the pleasure of seeing these Autumn hues. Did they even take it in or are we only seeing it in contrast to our insanely inane lives. Haven't we allowed a little hand held phone to rule our every move, action and reaction?
Perhaps we will go down in the history books as the lost generation if not the last...
There was place in the vineyards, where the grass was still an emerald green and it showcased the golden hues of the leaves, leaves that were coated in a mist of dew while either still dangling on a branch or resting beautifully on the ground. Divine.
Shakespeare's Sonnet #73
That time of the year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing fire of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the deathbed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourished by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long.