




| Every Leaf a Flower |
| I welcome you, Red Harvester of yet another year. I kindle fire and hold my midnight watch atop a hill. - Brett Rutherford |
| Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. - Albert Camus |
| Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure. - Thomas Wolfe |
| Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is color and a time of maturity. It is breadth and depth and distance. Who can stand with Autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of this world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon? - Hal Borland |
| The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from its summer cottons into its winter wools. - Henry Beston |
| There is a harmony in autumn, and a lustre in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been! - Percy Bysshe Shelley |
| In the old apple tree, starlings announce harvest time. - Philip Noble |
| The bounty shines in autumn unconfined And spreads a common feast for all. - James Thomson |

| Autumn: The hazy, cloudless skies of Indian Summer; leaves scurrying before the wind; the last warmth of the sun; chilly mornings and glorious afternoons; the harvest moon; the hunter's moon; dry corn stalks clattering in the wind; the touch of frost on the window pane; the smell of burning leaves. - Keith Heidorn |
| Listen! With faint dry sound, like steps of passing ghosts, The frost-crisp'd leaves break free from the trees and fall. - Author Unknown |
| The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of autumn have put their glory on. - William Cullen Bryant |


| 'Tis then I love to wander, wander idly and alone, Listening to the solemn music of sweet nature's undertone; Wrapt in thoughts I cannot utter, dreams that I cannot express, Dreams that match the autumn's sadness in their longing tenderness. - Mortimer Crane Brown |
| Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz |
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| Look at the leaves as they eddy down, crumpled yellow and withered brown, Swirling, billowing, drifting by, with a whisper soft and a rustling sigh, Starting aloft to windy ways, telling the coming of bonfire days. - Grace Strickler Dawson |
| Autumn Index Page Friday's Journal Whispers - Home Old New Orleans Pictures on this page are courtesy of Kepguru. |