1403. Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. ~F Scott Fitzgerald

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Autumn, the year’s last,
loveliest smile.
~William Cullen Bryant

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Autumn has indeed come; but summer lingers
On here unwilling to let go its lusty hold upon us.

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Though the lawn and garden remain green
and dotted with a smidgen of blossoming flowers,

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The landscape and I are growing more and more weary
as well as frazzled and bedraggled in these rainless days.

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Sadly we must yet wait, like it or not, for
vignettes such as these in the photos and John Keats
“season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” to arrive,

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As well as keep yearning for our souls to be wedded to the
Autumn deliciousness of which George Eliot spoke.

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Too we must continue waiting for Thomas Hood’s
“Shadowless misty morns” that stand in silence,

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Silence in which we wait yet again watching for the
For magical autumn’s slant of golden light, as we…

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Try to envisage Albert Camus’ “second spring” in
Which, as he said, every leaf becomes a flower.

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Then at long last we can ponder Robert Brownings’
“mute appeal to sympathy” for autumn’s inevitable decay.

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Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. ~James 5:7 ✝

**All photos via Pinterest

19 thoughts on “1403. Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. ~F Scott Fitzgerald”

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