My Autumn or yours

Edith_layton2

Here we are in the Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness….
Ah, uhm, no.
That’s a romantic poet’s English autumn.
That’s not autumn in New York.

Autumn in New York City is exactly like the song: vibrant and new, action is speeded up, there’s a smell of hot chestnuts in the air, and all of Central Park seems to be consumed in brilliant blowing flaming trees. The magic of First Nighting is a bit ‘spensive these days, but the rest is true. The lights seem brighter, the City is waking up again. There’s a new exciting spirit in the city. Anything can happen on a New York City October day or night.

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But even though I love NYC – there is nothing, I repeat nothing, like a suburban or countryside East Coast autumn. The kind of autumn that between one breath and another, is coming down the road to my house.

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Suddenly, overnight, the mimosas are showing bright yellow fronds, the wild grapes are twining scarlet ribbons up the trunks of maples whose leaves are growing gold and flame, purple and orange and red. Sumac, birch, willow and catalpa, linden and chestnut, weeds and reeds – all of them all aglow.
It is blinding in its beauty.
By this weekend, you’ll likely be able to drive through the dusk with the trees lining each side of the street standing like glowing tapers to light your way.

And yet – one year we went to Colorado and I saw their High autumn. The aspens were a brilliant yellow and their white trunks stood out against that cerulean sky, so crisply blue that it was startling. Mountain streams tumbled down mountains like crystal falls. Blue and yellow and crystal. If you closed your eyes you could still see the scene embedded on your retinas. Then, as we traveled south, we saw the tan and gold of mountain foliage, and the roadside stands with pumpkins and long strings of scarlet peppers.

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Not bad.

And then we came home just in time to see a doozy of a New England High autumn, mad with color and the insane variety of hues. Pumpkin orange and pomegranate red, every shade of gold and violet, plum and rose, copper and blush. The Berkshire Mountains looked like someone had thrown dozens of hand knit crazy quilt afghans over them.

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I love to write about England, but I must admit, autumn is subtle there.
Here, it comes on like a brass band. And it’s difficult for me to write my Work In Progress just teeming with English subtle when October is blaring right outside my window.

I once wrote a novella about an English autumn in a collection called: A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS. My autumn story was filled with witchcraft and magic, and crispy scuttling leaves of brown and dark gold. “The leaves fled, like from an enchanter fleeing….”.
That’s a New York November.

Loveforallseasons

Now I’m blinded by October. I’m in a New York State of mind.

How is the autumn where you are now?

Tell me about it. Make me want to see it.
Or, if you wish, tell me about a romance novel that has such an autumn in it.
One reader who does that will get a Layton Book, signed, and bookmarked with a bright autumn leaf.

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100 thoughts on “My Autumn or yours”

  1. Edith, I live in Los Angeles, where it is said we have four seasons: Fire, Mud, Earthquake and Construction. We are in Fire at the moment πŸ™ Most trees around here don’t change color; some lose their leaves, but most things like palms, pines and eucalyptus look pretty much the same all year. We do have one tree on the grounds that changes color every year; the first year I lived here I thought it must be sick. I don’t mind. I have blue skies and sunshine and crisp nights and no tire chains. Fall and winter are a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

    Reply
  2. Edith, I live in Los Angeles, where it is said we have four seasons: Fire, Mud, Earthquake and Construction. We are in Fire at the moment πŸ™ Most trees around here don’t change color; some lose their leaves, but most things like palms, pines and eucalyptus look pretty much the same all year. We do have one tree on the grounds that changes color every year; the first year I lived here I thought it must be sick. I don’t mind. I have blue skies and sunshine and crisp nights and no tire chains. Fall and winter are a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

    Reply
  3. Edith, I live in Los Angeles, where it is said we have four seasons: Fire, Mud, Earthquake and Construction. We are in Fire at the moment πŸ™ Most trees around here don’t change color; some lose their leaves, but most things like palms, pines and eucalyptus look pretty much the same all year. We do have one tree on the grounds that changes color every year; the first year I lived here I thought it must be sick. I don’t mind. I have blue skies and sunshine and crisp nights and no tire chains. Fall and winter are a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

    Reply
  4. Edith, I live in Los Angeles, where it is said we have four seasons: Fire, Mud, Earthquake and Construction. We are in Fire at the moment πŸ™ Most trees around here don’t change color; some lose their leaves, but most things like palms, pines and eucalyptus look pretty much the same all year. We do have one tree on the grounds that changes color every year; the first year I lived here I thought it must be sick. I don’t mind. I have blue skies and sunshine and crisp nights and no tire chains. Fall and winter are a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

    Reply
  5. Edith, I live in Los Angeles, where it is said we have four seasons: Fire, Mud, Earthquake and Construction. We are in Fire at the moment πŸ™ Most trees around here don’t change color; some lose their leaves, but most things like palms, pines and eucalyptus look pretty much the same all year. We do have one tree on the grounds that changes color every year; the first year I lived here I thought it must be sick. I don’t mind. I have blue skies and sunshine and crisp nights and no tire chains. Fall and winter are a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

    Reply
  6. I SO miss the northern autumns. It was the best part of living in Indiana.
    I recently reread A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS, and that story is my favorite. It’s my second or third favorite of your shorter works.
    As autumn doesn’t offer much here except 90-degree temperatures, I’ll give you a bit of poetry instead:
    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 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.
    —- Bliss Carman

    Reply
  7. I SO miss the northern autumns. It was the best part of living in Indiana.
    I recently reread A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS, and that story is my favorite. It’s my second or third favorite of your shorter works.
    As autumn doesn’t offer much here except 90-degree temperatures, I’ll give you a bit of poetry instead:
    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 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.
    —- Bliss Carman

    Reply
  8. I SO miss the northern autumns. It was the best part of living in Indiana.
    I recently reread A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS, and that story is my favorite. It’s my second or third favorite of your shorter works.
    As autumn doesn’t offer much here except 90-degree temperatures, I’ll give you a bit of poetry instead:
    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 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.
    —- Bliss Carman

    Reply
  9. I SO miss the northern autumns. It was the best part of living in Indiana.
    I recently reread A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS, and that story is my favorite. It’s my second or third favorite of your shorter works.
    As autumn doesn’t offer much here except 90-degree temperatures, I’ll give you a bit of poetry instead:
    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 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.
    —- Bliss Carman

    Reply
  10. I SO miss the northern autumns. It was the best part of living in Indiana.
    I recently reread A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS, and that story is my favorite. It’s my second or third favorite of your shorter works.
    As autumn doesn’t offer much here except 90-degree temperatures, I’ll give you a bit of poetry instead:
    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 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.
    —- Bliss Carman

    Reply
  11. AOL froze on me; I have more.
    One of my favorite (for obvious reasons) descriptions of autumn;
    http://www.online-literature.com/grahame/windwillows/9/
    And my favorite poem about the season:
    ‘Spring and Fall, to a Young Child’
    Margaret, are you grieving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leaves, like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! as the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you will weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sorrow’s springs are the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It is the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.
    — Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Reply
  12. AOL froze on me; I have more.
    One of my favorite (for obvious reasons) descriptions of autumn;
    http://www.online-literature.com/grahame/windwillows/9/
    And my favorite poem about the season:
    ‘Spring and Fall, to a Young Child’
    Margaret, are you grieving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leaves, like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! as the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you will weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sorrow’s springs are the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It is the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.
    — Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Reply
  13. AOL froze on me; I have more.
    One of my favorite (for obvious reasons) descriptions of autumn;
    http://www.online-literature.com/grahame/windwillows/9/
    And my favorite poem about the season:
    ‘Spring and Fall, to a Young Child’
    Margaret, are you grieving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leaves, like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! as the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you will weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sorrow’s springs are the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It is the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.
    — Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Reply
  14. AOL froze on me; I have more.
    One of my favorite (for obvious reasons) descriptions of autumn;
    http://www.online-literature.com/grahame/windwillows/9/
    And my favorite poem about the season:
    ‘Spring and Fall, to a Young Child’
    Margaret, are you grieving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leaves, like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! as the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you will weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sorrow’s springs are the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It is the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.
    — Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Reply
  15. AOL froze on me; I have more.
    One of my favorite (for obvious reasons) descriptions of autumn;
    http://www.online-literature.com/grahame/windwillows/9/
    And my favorite poem about the season:
    ‘Spring and Fall, to a Young Child’
    Margaret, are you grieving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?
    Leaves, like the things of man, you
    With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
    Ah! as the heart grows older
    It will come to such sights colder
    By and by, nor spare a sigh
    Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
    And yet you will weep and know why.
    Now no matter, child, the name:
    Sorrow’s springs are the same.
    Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
    What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
    It is the blight man was born for,
    It is Margaret you mourn for.
    — Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Reply
  16. I live in Massachusetts, so autumn here has been pretty spectacular so far. Lots of sunny days and colorful displays as the leaves turn from green to gold, orange and red, and with bright blue skies, there’s nothing else quite like it. It’s like being part of an animated watercolor painting.
    (I need to write that down; sounds like a good description for a book. Ah, the writer never quits!)

    Reply
  17. I live in Massachusetts, so autumn here has been pretty spectacular so far. Lots of sunny days and colorful displays as the leaves turn from green to gold, orange and red, and with bright blue skies, there’s nothing else quite like it. It’s like being part of an animated watercolor painting.
    (I need to write that down; sounds like a good description for a book. Ah, the writer never quits!)

    Reply
  18. I live in Massachusetts, so autumn here has been pretty spectacular so far. Lots of sunny days and colorful displays as the leaves turn from green to gold, orange and red, and with bright blue skies, there’s nothing else quite like it. It’s like being part of an animated watercolor painting.
    (I need to write that down; sounds like a good description for a book. Ah, the writer never quits!)

    Reply
  19. I live in Massachusetts, so autumn here has been pretty spectacular so far. Lots of sunny days and colorful displays as the leaves turn from green to gold, orange and red, and with bright blue skies, there’s nothing else quite like it. It’s like being part of an animated watercolor painting.
    (I need to write that down; sounds like a good description for a book. Ah, the writer never quits!)

    Reply
  20. I live in Massachusetts, so autumn here has been pretty spectacular so far. Lots of sunny days and colorful displays as the leaves turn from green to gold, orange and red, and with bright blue skies, there’s nothing else quite like it. It’s like being part of an animated watercolor painting.
    (I need to write that down; sounds like a good description for a book. Ah, the writer never quits!)

    Reply
  21. I live in Massachusetts, too.
    With the summer humidity gone, the sky sparkles a bright crystalline blue. The air is cool and bracing, a relief after the sweltering heat of summer, but not yet carrying the cold touch of winter. Every hillside blooms with a mix-and-match of vibrant color–red swamp maple, reddish-brown oak, yellow birch, and the bright green of the trees that refuse to turn until November, interspersed with the darker green of firs.
    And last, but not least, is the beacon of a New England fall, and my favorite tree, the sugar maple, its fluorescent orange leaves glowing in the autumn sun. Whether or not you can identify trees, you can always pick out a sugar maple in the fall.
    I love October.

    Reply
  22. I live in Massachusetts, too.
    With the summer humidity gone, the sky sparkles a bright crystalline blue. The air is cool and bracing, a relief after the sweltering heat of summer, but not yet carrying the cold touch of winter. Every hillside blooms with a mix-and-match of vibrant color–red swamp maple, reddish-brown oak, yellow birch, and the bright green of the trees that refuse to turn until November, interspersed with the darker green of firs.
    And last, but not least, is the beacon of a New England fall, and my favorite tree, the sugar maple, its fluorescent orange leaves glowing in the autumn sun. Whether or not you can identify trees, you can always pick out a sugar maple in the fall.
    I love October.

    Reply
  23. I live in Massachusetts, too.
    With the summer humidity gone, the sky sparkles a bright crystalline blue. The air is cool and bracing, a relief after the sweltering heat of summer, but not yet carrying the cold touch of winter. Every hillside blooms with a mix-and-match of vibrant color–red swamp maple, reddish-brown oak, yellow birch, and the bright green of the trees that refuse to turn until November, interspersed with the darker green of firs.
    And last, but not least, is the beacon of a New England fall, and my favorite tree, the sugar maple, its fluorescent orange leaves glowing in the autumn sun. Whether or not you can identify trees, you can always pick out a sugar maple in the fall.
    I love October.

    Reply
  24. I live in Massachusetts, too.
    With the summer humidity gone, the sky sparkles a bright crystalline blue. The air is cool and bracing, a relief after the sweltering heat of summer, but not yet carrying the cold touch of winter. Every hillside blooms with a mix-and-match of vibrant color–red swamp maple, reddish-brown oak, yellow birch, and the bright green of the trees that refuse to turn until November, interspersed with the darker green of firs.
    And last, but not least, is the beacon of a New England fall, and my favorite tree, the sugar maple, its fluorescent orange leaves glowing in the autumn sun. Whether or not you can identify trees, you can always pick out a sugar maple in the fall.
    I love October.

    Reply
  25. I live in Massachusetts, too.
    With the summer humidity gone, the sky sparkles a bright crystalline blue. The air is cool and bracing, a relief after the sweltering heat of summer, but not yet carrying the cold touch of winter. Every hillside blooms with a mix-and-match of vibrant color–red swamp maple, reddish-brown oak, yellow birch, and the bright green of the trees that refuse to turn until November, interspersed with the darker green of firs.
    And last, but not least, is the beacon of a New England fall, and my favorite tree, the sugar maple, its fluorescent orange leaves glowing in the autumn sun. Whether or not you can identify trees, you can always pick out a sugar maple in the fall.
    I love October.

    Reply
  26. I love autumn. I’m down south at college, and the weather and beauty just doesn’t compare to home (up north New England fall). I went home for fall break and I couldn’t stop talking about the trees, the apples, cider and the crisp cool air.
    Nothing like it. Nothing

    Reply
  27. I love autumn. I’m down south at college, and the weather and beauty just doesn’t compare to home (up north New England fall). I went home for fall break and I couldn’t stop talking about the trees, the apples, cider and the crisp cool air.
    Nothing like it. Nothing

    Reply
  28. I love autumn. I’m down south at college, and the weather and beauty just doesn’t compare to home (up north New England fall). I went home for fall break and I couldn’t stop talking about the trees, the apples, cider and the crisp cool air.
    Nothing like it. Nothing

    Reply
  29. I love autumn. I’m down south at college, and the weather and beauty just doesn’t compare to home (up north New England fall). I went home for fall break and I couldn’t stop talking about the trees, the apples, cider and the crisp cool air.
    Nothing like it. Nothing

    Reply
  30. I love autumn. I’m down south at college, and the weather and beauty just doesn’t compare to home (up north New England fall). I went home for fall break and I couldn’t stop talking about the trees, the apples, cider and the crisp cool air.
    Nothing like it. Nothing

    Reply
  31. This Margaret isn’t grieving, I assure you!
    Edith, a lovely posting about the glories of autumn. The aspen trees in CO are indeed spectacular.
    New England is truly putting on a show…every day I wake to fresh glories. And on my various errand runs I see the most amazing trees…even in shopping mall parking lots!

    Reply
  32. This Margaret isn’t grieving, I assure you!
    Edith, a lovely posting about the glories of autumn. The aspen trees in CO are indeed spectacular.
    New England is truly putting on a show…every day I wake to fresh glories. And on my various errand runs I see the most amazing trees…even in shopping mall parking lots!

    Reply
  33. This Margaret isn’t grieving, I assure you!
    Edith, a lovely posting about the glories of autumn. The aspen trees in CO are indeed spectacular.
    New England is truly putting on a show…every day I wake to fresh glories. And on my various errand runs I see the most amazing trees…even in shopping mall parking lots!

    Reply
  34. This Margaret isn’t grieving, I assure you!
    Edith, a lovely posting about the glories of autumn. The aspen trees in CO are indeed spectacular.
    New England is truly putting on a show…every day I wake to fresh glories. And on my various errand runs I see the most amazing trees…even in shopping mall parking lots!

    Reply
  35. This Margaret isn’t grieving, I assure you!
    Edith, a lovely posting about the glories of autumn. The aspen trees in CO are indeed spectacular.
    New England is truly putting on a show…every day I wake to fresh glories. And on my various errand runs I see the most amazing trees…even in shopping mall parking lots!

    Reply
  36. I had to take my husband to New York in October because, being a child of the south, he couldn’t believe me about the glare of color. Here in MO, every tree seems to turn at a different time. Right now, the dogwood outside my office window is a deep crimson covered in bright red berries, but the pin oak and maples are still green. We’ll be raking leaves for three months…

    Reply
  37. I had to take my husband to New York in October because, being a child of the south, he couldn’t believe me about the glare of color. Here in MO, every tree seems to turn at a different time. Right now, the dogwood outside my office window is a deep crimson covered in bright red berries, but the pin oak and maples are still green. We’ll be raking leaves for three months…

    Reply
  38. I had to take my husband to New York in October because, being a child of the south, he couldn’t believe me about the glare of color. Here in MO, every tree seems to turn at a different time. Right now, the dogwood outside my office window is a deep crimson covered in bright red berries, but the pin oak and maples are still green. We’ll be raking leaves for three months…

    Reply
  39. I had to take my husband to New York in October because, being a child of the south, he couldn’t believe me about the glare of color. Here in MO, every tree seems to turn at a different time. Right now, the dogwood outside my office window is a deep crimson covered in bright red berries, but the pin oak and maples are still green. We’ll be raking leaves for three months…

    Reply
  40. I had to take my husband to New York in October because, being a child of the south, he couldn’t believe me about the glare of color. Here in MO, every tree seems to turn at a different time. Right now, the dogwood outside my office window is a deep crimson covered in bright red berries, but the pin oak and maples are still green. We’ll be raking leaves for three months…

    Reply
  41. From Sherrie:
    Lovely, lovely post, Edith. You have SUCH a way with words. No wonder you’re a writer.
    Here in the Pacific Northwest we have a maritime climate with mild seasons. Our deciduous trees stay green for a long time, hanging onto their leaves with a death grip. But once fall arrives in earnest, they seem to change color overnight.
    Our local guvmint planted the most wonderful variety of trees and bushes in the median along Highway 16. They leaf out early in spring, then burst forth with pink and white blossoms. In summer, they sport a lovely texture of greens. Then in fall they explode in a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows.
    The farm across the street has a large pasture with one solitary maple tree planted smack in the middle. That tree is my barometer. When it turns a startling, neon, pulsating orange, that’s my signal to get out my camera and start driving up and down our backwater roads looking for fall beauties.
    Less than 3 miles away is Olalla Bay, a lazy saltwater bay surrounded by evergreen and deciduous trees. In the fall you can see the brightly colored fall trees at water’s edge reflected in the glass-calm waters of the bay. A photographer’s delight.
    I think I better grab my camera and drive down to the bay and see what Mother Nature has cooked up!

    Reply
  42. From Sherrie:
    Lovely, lovely post, Edith. You have SUCH a way with words. No wonder you’re a writer.
    Here in the Pacific Northwest we have a maritime climate with mild seasons. Our deciduous trees stay green for a long time, hanging onto their leaves with a death grip. But once fall arrives in earnest, they seem to change color overnight.
    Our local guvmint planted the most wonderful variety of trees and bushes in the median along Highway 16. They leaf out early in spring, then burst forth with pink and white blossoms. In summer, they sport a lovely texture of greens. Then in fall they explode in a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows.
    The farm across the street has a large pasture with one solitary maple tree planted smack in the middle. That tree is my barometer. When it turns a startling, neon, pulsating orange, that’s my signal to get out my camera and start driving up and down our backwater roads looking for fall beauties.
    Less than 3 miles away is Olalla Bay, a lazy saltwater bay surrounded by evergreen and deciduous trees. In the fall you can see the brightly colored fall trees at water’s edge reflected in the glass-calm waters of the bay. A photographer’s delight.
    I think I better grab my camera and drive down to the bay and see what Mother Nature has cooked up!

    Reply
  43. From Sherrie:
    Lovely, lovely post, Edith. You have SUCH a way with words. No wonder you’re a writer.
    Here in the Pacific Northwest we have a maritime climate with mild seasons. Our deciduous trees stay green for a long time, hanging onto their leaves with a death grip. But once fall arrives in earnest, they seem to change color overnight.
    Our local guvmint planted the most wonderful variety of trees and bushes in the median along Highway 16. They leaf out early in spring, then burst forth with pink and white blossoms. In summer, they sport a lovely texture of greens. Then in fall they explode in a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows.
    The farm across the street has a large pasture with one solitary maple tree planted smack in the middle. That tree is my barometer. When it turns a startling, neon, pulsating orange, that’s my signal to get out my camera and start driving up and down our backwater roads looking for fall beauties.
    Less than 3 miles away is Olalla Bay, a lazy saltwater bay surrounded by evergreen and deciduous trees. In the fall you can see the brightly colored fall trees at water’s edge reflected in the glass-calm waters of the bay. A photographer’s delight.
    I think I better grab my camera and drive down to the bay and see what Mother Nature has cooked up!

    Reply
  44. From Sherrie:
    Lovely, lovely post, Edith. You have SUCH a way with words. No wonder you’re a writer.
    Here in the Pacific Northwest we have a maritime climate with mild seasons. Our deciduous trees stay green for a long time, hanging onto their leaves with a death grip. But once fall arrives in earnest, they seem to change color overnight.
    Our local guvmint planted the most wonderful variety of trees and bushes in the median along Highway 16. They leaf out early in spring, then burst forth with pink and white blossoms. In summer, they sport a lovely texture of greens. Then in fall they explode in a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows.
    The farm across the street has a large pasture with one solitary maple tree planted smack in the middle. That tree is my barometer. When it turns a startling, neon, pulsating orange, that’s my signal to get out my camera and start driving up and down our backwater roads looking for fall beauties.
    Less than 3 miles away is Olalla Bay, a lazy saltwater bay surrounded by evergreen and deciduous trees. In the fall you can see the brightly colored fall trees at water’s edge reflected in the glass-calm waters of the bay. A photographer’s delight.
    I think I better grab my camera and drive down to the bay and see what Mother Nature has cooked up!

    Reply
  45. From Sherrie:
    Lovely, lovely post, Edith. You have SUCH a way with words. No wonder you’re a writer.
    Here in the Pacific Northwest we have a maritime climate with mild seasons. Our deciduous trees stay green for a long time, hanging onto their leaves with a death grip. But once fall arrives in earnest, they seem to change color overnight.
    Our local guvmint planted the most wonderful variety of trees and bushes in the median along Highway 16. They leaf out early in spring, then burst forth with pink and white blossoms. In summer, they sport a lovely texture of greens. Then in fall they explode in a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows.
    The farm across the street has a large pasture with one solitary maple tree planted smack in the middle. That tree is my barometer. When it turns a startling, neon, pulsating orange, that’s my signal to get out my camera and start driving up and down our backwater roads looking for fall beauties.
    Less than 3 miles away is Olalla Bay, a lazy saltwater bay surrounded by evergreen and deciduous trees. In the fall you can see the brightly colored fall trees at water’s edge reflected in the glass-calm waters of the bay. A photographer’s delight.
    I think I better grab my camera and drive down to the bay and see what Mother Nature has cooked up!

    Reply
  46. I’m experiencing autumn in NY, too. The leaves are just beginning to change. I can’t wait for the bursts of red, yellow and orange. This is also the perfect time for apple picking in upstate NY.

    Reply
  47. I’m experiencing autumn in NY, too. The leaves are just beginning to change. I can’t wait for the bursts of red, yellow and orange. This is also the perfect time for apple picking in upstate NY.

    Reply
  48. I’m experiencing autumn in NY, too. The leaves are just beginning to change. I can’t wait for the bursts of red, yellow and orange. This is also the perfect time for apple picking in upstate NY.

    Reply
  49. I’m experiencing autumn in NY, too. The leaves are just beginning to change. I can’t wait for the bursts of red, yellow and orange. This is also the perfect time for apple picking in upstate NY.

    Reply
  50. I’m experiencing autumn in NY, too. The leaves are just beginning to change. I can’t wait for the bursts of red, yellow and orange. This is also the perfect time for apple picking in upstate NY.

    Reply
  51. Greetings from Long Island, New York. 80 degrees today and we got to kick rosy red leaves all over the park. Color is good, but was much nicer upstate, when I drove up to Cortland last week.

    Reply
  52. Greetings from Long Island, New York. 80 degrees today and we got to kick rosy red leaves all over the park. Color is good, but was much nicer upstate, when I drove up to Cortland last week.

    Reply
  53. Greetings from Long Island, New York. 80 degrees today and we got to kick rosy red leaves all over the park. Color is good, but was much nicer upstate, when I drove up to Cortland last week.

    Reply
  54. Greetings from Long Island, New York. 80 degrees today and we got to kick rosy red leaves all over the park. Color is good, but was much nicer upstate, when I drove up to Cortland last week.

    Reply
  55. Greetings from Long Island, New York. 80 degrees today and we got to kick rosy red leaves all over the park. Color is good, but was much nicer upstate, when I drove up to Cortland last week.

    Reply
  56. Last weekend, I took the train up to Albany, New York, and back. On the way up, the trees along the Hudson were just beginning to show a little color among the green. On the way back, almost half of them were turning.
    The weather was gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous.

    Reply
  57. Last weekend, I took the train up to Albany, New York, and back. On the way up, the trees along the Hudson were just beginning to show a little color among the green. On the way back, almost half of them were turning.
    The weather was gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous.

    Reply
  58. Last weekend, I took the train up to Albany, New York, and back. On the way up, the trees along the Hudson were just beginning to show a little color among the green. On the way back, almost half of them were turning.
    The weather was gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous.

    Reply
  59. Last weekend, I took the train up to Albany, New York, and back. On the way up, the trees along the Hudson were just beginning to show a little color among the green. On the way back, almost half of them were turning.
    The weather was gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous.

    Reply
  60. Last weekend, I took the train up to Albany, New York, and back. On the way up, the trees along the Hudson were just beginning to show a little color among the green. On the way back, almost half of them were turning.
    The weather was gorgeous. Utterly gorgeous.

    Reply
  61. I live in Maine, where the gorgeous autumns almost make me forget that snow and slippery ice are just around the corner. But the very best fall I ever saw was a few years ago on the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia—mountains covered in color, cliffs dropping to a sparkling sea, blindingly blue skies.

    Reply
  62. I live in Maine, where the gorgeous autumns almost make me forget that snow and slippery ice are just around the corner. But the very best fall I ever saw was a few years ago on the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia—mountains covered in color, cliffs dropping to a sparkling sea, blindingly blue skies.

    Reply
  63. I live in Maine, where the gorgeous autumns almost make me forget that snow and slippery ice are just around the corner. But the very best fall I ever saw was a few years ago on the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia—mountains covered in color, cliffs dropping to a sparkling sea, blindingly blue skies.

    Reply
  64. I live in Maine, where the gorgeous autumns almost make me forget that snow and slippery ice are just around the corner. But the very best fall I ever saw was a few years ago on the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia—mountains covered in color, cliffs dropping to a sparkling sea, blindingly blue skies.

    Reply
  65. I live in Maine, where the gorgeous autumns almost make me forget that snow and slippery ice are just around the corner. But the very best fall I ever saw was a few years ago on the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia—mountains covered in color, cliffs dropping to a sparkling sea, blindingly blue skies.

    Reply
  66. In Dallas we have autumn on the 4th Sunday in October from 2-4 PM. There really isn’t much in the way of leaves changing colors. We just returned from Vail, CO and the leaves were still absolutely beautiful. The night before we came home it snowed. There were still some brave golden leaves hanging on in the protected hollows but the evergreens had clumps of snow. The contrast of white, dark green and gold was wonderful. I understand now why some people make a point of traveling to areas where there are fall leaves. It’s definitely worth the trip.

    Reply
  67. In Dallas we have autumn on the 4th Sunday in October from 2-4 PM. There really isn’t much in the way of leaves changing colors. We just returned from Vail, CO and the leaves were still absolutely beautiful. The night before we came home it snowed. There were still some brave golden leaves hanging on in the protected hollows but the evergreens had clumps of snow. The contrast of white, dark green and gold was wonderful. I understand now why some people make a point of traveling to areas where there are fall leaves. It’s definitely worth the trip.

    Reply
  68. In Dallas we have autumn on the 4th Sunday in October from 2-4 PM. There really isn’t much in the way of leaves changing colors. We just returned from Vail, CO and the leaves were still absolutely beautiful. The night before we came home it snowed. There were still some brave golden leaves hanging on in the protected hollows but the evergreens had clumps of snow. The contrast of white, dark green and gold was wonderful. I understand now why some people make a point of traveling to areas where there are fall leaves. It’s definitely worth the trip.

    Reply
  69. In Dallas we have autumn on the 4th Sunday in October from 2-4 PM. There really isn’t much in the way of leaves changing colors. We just returned from Vail, CO and the leaves were still absolutely beautiful. The night before we came home it snowed. There were still some brave golden leaves hanging on in the protected hollows but the evergreens had clumps of snow. The contrast of white, dark green and gold was wonderful. I understand now why some people make a point of traveling to areas where there are fall leaves. It’s definitely worth the trip.

    Reply
  70. In Dallas we have autumn on the 4th Sunday in October from 2-4 PM. There really isn’t much in the way of leaves changing colors. We just returned from Vail, CO and the leaves were still absolutely beautiful. The night before we came home it snowed. There were still some brave golden leaves hanging on in the protected hollows but the evergreens had clumps of snow. The contrast of white, dark green and gold was wonderful. I understand now why some people make a point of traveling to areas where there are fall leaves. It’s definitely worth the trip.

    Reply
  71. Autumn in Indiana is always a treat. Especially down around the Wabash River. My favorite all-time event is Feast of the Hunter’s Moon in Lafayette, home of Purdue University. It’s a gigantic reenactment of colonial local life during the early 1700’s. The event begins with the French trappers and Native Americans canoeing up the Wabash and landing at the fort. The whole weekend is an English, French, Native American celebration. My two most favorite events — shooting off the canons and the LaCrosse game. Oh, and the food. All authentic period stuff.

    Reply
  72. Autumn in Indiana is always a treat. Especially down around the Wabash River. My favorite all-time event is Feast of the Hunter’s Moon in Lafayette, home of Purdue University. It’s a gigantic reenactment of colonial local life during the early 1700’s. The event begins with the French trappers and Native Americans canoeing up the Wabash and landing at the fort. The whole weekend is an English, French, Native American celebration. My two most favorite events — shooting off the canons and the LaCrosse game. Oh, and the food. All authentic period stuff.

    Reply
  73. Autumn in Indiana is always a treat. Especially down around the Wabash River. My favorite all-time event is Feast of the Hunter’s Moon in Lafayette, home of Purdue University. It’s a gigantic reenactment of colonial local life during the early 1700’s. The event begins with the French trappers and Native Americans canoeing up the Wabash and landing at the fort. The whole weekend is an English, French, Native American celebration. My two most favorite events — shooting off the canons and the LaCrosse game. Oh, and the food. All authentic period stuff.

    Reply
  74. Autumn in Indiana is always a treat. Especially down around the Wabash River. My favorite all-time event is Feast of the Hunter’s Moon in Lafayette, home of Purdue University. It’s a gigantic reenactment of colonial local life during the early 1700’s. The event begins with the French trappers and Native Americans canoeing up the Wabash and landing at the fort. The whole weekend is an English, French, Native American celebration. My two most favorite events — shooting off the canons and the LaCrosse game. Oh, and the food. All authentic period stuff.

    Reply
  75. Autumn in Indiana is always a treat. Especially down around the Wabash River. My favorite all-time event is Feast of the Hunter’s Moon in Lafayette, home of Purdue University. It’s a gigantic reenactment of colonial local life during the early 1700’s. The event begins with the French trappers and Native Americans canoeing up the Wabash and landing at the fort. The whole weekend is an English, French, Native American celebration. My two most favorite events — shooting off the canons and the LaCrosse game. Oh, and the food. All authentic period stuff.

    Reply
  76. Autumn is my favorite season because I love its zest and courage. But generally fall is much less spectacular down here than it is in more northerly climes. I have seen some staggeringly beautiful scenes with yellow poplar reflected in a lake giving the illusion of a golden water world, but this year things are more subdued. The peak color is always later in the southland, however, and we may see more color in another week or two.
    Things will balance out later. When you snow birds are still shivering, we will be delighting in the daffodils and forsythia, those golden harbingers of our early spring. πŸ™‚

    Reply
  77. Autumn is my favorite season because I love its zest and courage. But generally fall is much less spectacular down here than it is in more northerly climes. I have seen some staggeringly beautiful scenes with yellow poplar reflected in a lake giving the illusion of a golden water world, but this year things are more subdued. The peak color is always later in the southland, however, and we may see more color in another week or two.
    Things will balance out later. When you snow birds are still shivering, we will be delighting in the daffodils and forsythia, those golden harbingers of our early spring. πŸ™‚

    Reply
  78. Autumn is my favorite season because I love its zest and courage. But generally fall is much less spectacular down here than it is in more northerly climes. I have seen some staggeringly beautiful scenes with yellow poplar reflected in a lake giving the illusion of a golden water world, but this year things are more subdued. The peak color is always later in the southland, however, and we may see more color in another week or two.
    Things will balance out later. When you snow birds are still shivering, we will be delighting in the daffodils and forsythia, those golden harbingers of our early spring. πŸ™‚

    Reply
  79. Autumn is my favorite season because I love its zest and courage. But generally fall is much less spectacular down here than it is in more northerly climes. I have seen some staggeringly beautiful scenes with yellow poplar reflected in a lake giving the illusion of a golden water world, but this year things are more subdued. The peak color is always later in the southland, however, and we may see more color in another week or two.
    Things will balance out later. When you snow birds are still shivering, we will be delighting in the daffodils and forsythia, those golden harbingers of our early spring. πŸ™‚

    Reply
  80. Autumn is my favorite season because I love its zest and courage. But generally fall is much less spectacular down here than it is in more northerly climes. I have seen some staggeringly beautiful scenes with yellow poplar reflected in a lake giving the illusion of a golden water world, but this year things are more subdued. The peak color is always later in the southland, however, and we may see more color in another week or two.
    Things will balance out later. When you snow birds are still shivering, we will be delighting in the daffodils and forsythia, those golden harbingers of our early spring. πŸ™‚

    Reply
  81. Ruska (Finnish for all those pretty colors in trees and bushes) is beautiful here in eastern part of Finland. And you might see some birds flying south. It depends on the winds where you see them, though. Last year a lot of geese and other big birds flew over my home, but not this year.

    Reply
  82. Ruska (Finnish for all those pretty colors in trees and bushes) is beautiful here in eastern part of Finland. And you might see some birds flying south. It depends on the winds where you see them, though. Last year a lot of geese and other big birds flew over my home, but not this year.

    Reply
  83. Ruska (Finnish for all those pretty colors in trees and bushes) is beautiful here in eastern part of Finland. And you might see some birds flying south. It depends on the winds where you see them, though. Last year a lot of geese and other big birds flew over my home, but not this year.

    Reply
  84. Ruska (Finnish for all those pretty colors in trees and bushes) is beautiful here in eastern part of Finland. And you might see some birds flying south. It depends on the winds where you see them, though. Last year a lot of geese and other big birds flew over my home, but not this year.

    Reply
  85. Ruska (Finnish for all those pretty colors in trees and bushes) is beautiful here in eastern part of Finland. And you might see some birds flying south. It depends on the winds where you see them, though. Last year a lot of geese and other big birds flew over my home, but not this year.

    Reply
  86. Washington DC has some of the colors of the northern autumn, although it doesn’t quite match the years I lived in Massachusetts. What I do love are the gingko trees that line my street: the leaves are such a beautiful shape and they turn bright yellow all at the same time, then fall together in a heap of gold on the ground.
    P.S. Thank you, Minna. My dishes are by Arabia of Finland. The pattern is called Ruska, and I never new what it meant before.

    Reply
  87. Washington DC has some of the colors of the northern autumn, although it doesn’t quite match the years I lived in Massachusetts. What I do love are the gingko trees that line my street: the leaves are such a beautiful shape and they turn bright yellow all at the same time, then fall together in a heap of gold on the ground.
    P.S. Thank you, Minna. My dishes are by Arabia of Finland. The pattern is called Ruska, and I never new what it meant before.

    Reply
  88. Washington DC has some of the colors of the northern autumn, although it doesn’t quite match the years I lived in Massachusetts. What I do love are the gingko trees that line my street: the leaves are such a beautiful shape and they turn bright yellow all at the same time, then fall together in a heap of gold on the ground.
    P.S. Thank you, Minna. My dishes are by Arabia of Finland. The pattern is called Ruska, and I never new what it meant before.

    Reply
  89. Washington DC has some of the colors of the northern autumn, although it doesn’t quite match the years I lived in Massachusetts. What I do love are the gingko trees that line my street: the leaves are such a beautiful shape and they turn bright yellow all at the same time, then fall together in a heap of gold on the ground.
    P.S. Thank you, Minna. My dishes are by Arabia of Finland. The pattern is called Ruska, and I never new what it meant before.

    Reply
  90. Washington DC has some of the colors of the northern autumn, although it doesn’t quite match the years I lived in Massachusetts. What I do love are the gingko trees that line my street: the leaves are such a beautiful shape and they turn bright yellow all at the same time, then fall together in a heap of gold on the ground.
    P.S. Thank you, Minna. My dishes are by Arabia of Finland. The pattern is called Ruska, and I never new what it meant before.

    Reply
  91. Autumn here in Southern California back country doesn’t change very much. As Tal mentioned…Pines, Pepper, and eucalyptus change very little. We do have a few trees that turn brown and lose their leaves. Have one tree that blooms in the fall…lovely orchid like pinkish flowers. I think it is a silk floss tree. Days are still warmish (90 today)…nites get a little cooler.
    Ms Edith..
    Thanks for “His Dark and Dangerous Ways.” Enjoyed reading it….looking for the other books now.

    Reply
  92. Autumn here in Southern California back country doesn’t change very much. As Tal mentioned…Pines, Pepper, and eucalyptus change very little. We do have a few trees that turn brown and lose their leaves. Have one tree that blooms in the fall…lovely orchid like pinkish flowers. I think it is a silk floss tree. Days are still warmish (90 today)…nites get a little cooler.
    Ms Edith..
    Thanks for “His Dark and Dangerous Ways.” Enjoyed reading it….looking for the other books now.

    Reply
  93. Autumn here in Southern California back country doesn’t change very much. As Tal mentioned…Pines, Pepper, and eucalyptus change very little. We do have a few trees that turn brown and lose their leaves. Have one tree that blooms in the fall…lovely orchid like pinkish flowers. I think it is a silk floss tree. Days are still warmish (90 today)…nites get a little cooler.
    Ms Edith..
    Thanks for “His Dark and Dangerous Ways.” Enjoyed reading it….looking for the other books now.

    Reply
  94. Autumn here in Southern California back country doesn’t change very much. As Tal mentioned…Pines, Pepper, and eucalyptus change very little. We do have a few trees that turn brown and lose their leaves. Have one tree that blooms in the fall…lovely orchid like pinkish flowers. I think it is a silk floss tree. Days are still warmish (90 today)…nites get a little cooler.
    Ms Edith..
    Thanks for “His Dark and Dangerous Ways.” Enjoyed reading it….looking for the other books now.

    Reply
  95. Autumn here in Southern California back country doesn’t change very much. As Tal mentioned…Pines, Pepper, and eucalyptus change very little. We do have a few trees that turn brown and lose their leaves. Have one tree that blooms in the fall…lovely orchid like pinkish flowers. I think it is a silk floss tree. Days are still warmish (90 today)…nites get a little cooler.
    Ms Edith..
    Thanks for “His Dark and Dangerous Ways.” Enjoyed reading it….looking for the other books now.

    Reply
  96. AUTUMN IN Hokkaido…Ah! Crunch crunch crunch leaves and one awestruck amidst the brick red maple trees under a very intimate autumn sky… The seasons is what defines Japan- from the outer to their own inner core.
    Listening to war songs
    togather
    autumn sea

    Reply
  97. AUTUMN IN Hokkaido…Ah! Crunch crunch crunch leaves and one awestruck amidst the brick red maple trees under a very intimate autumn sky… The seasons is what defines Japan- from the outer to their own inner core.
    Listening to war songs
    togather
    autumn sea

    Reply
  98. AUTUMN IN Hokkaido…Ah! Crunch crunch crunch leaves and one awestruck amidst the brick red maple trees under a very intimate autumn sky… The seasons is what defines Japan- from the outer to their own inner core.
    Listening to war songs
    togather
    autumn sea

    Reply
  99. AUTUMN IN Hokkaido…Ah! Crunch crunch crunch leaves and one awestruck amidst the brick red maple trees under a very intimate autumn sky… The seasons is what defines Japan- from the outer to their own inner core.
    Listening to war songs
    togather
    autumn sea

    Reply
  100. AUTUMN IN Hokkaido…Ah! Crunch crunch crunch leaves and one awestruck amidst the brick red maple trees under a very intimate autumn sky… The seasons is what defines Japan- from the outer to their own inner core.
    Listening to war songs
    togather
    autumn sea

    Reply

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