9. Falling Leaves by Olga Wisinger-Florian (1899) To walk over richly-coloured leaves strewn on the ground is one of autumn's most distinctive feelings; Wisinger-Florian captures it so perfectly that you can almost hear the leaves rustling, hear footsteps crackling over them. https://t.co/FtQQaNP3Gf
The leaves of the trees about the camp ground were thick and heavy, no longer growing but hanging limp and waiting for the first frost to whip them with color and the second to drive them to the earth and terminate their year.
It is officially the first day of fall. The leaves may have barely begun to turn, but, as Charlotte Mendelson reminds us, “ ’Tis the season of mist, nature’s Photoshop; trenchcoats; barley; licensed melancholy; munificence; and glorious rot.” It is a time when new growth ceases and gardens begin to wilt and shrivel. “After the
... See moreThe day is autumnal and mild, the east breeze smelling of urban commerce and the vague suede smell of new-fallen leaves.
It’s fall, the very carnival of transience; the roses have an inflamed flush, their blood-red color tinged with a wonderfully hectic hue.
