Ahh, autumn – long sleeves, falling leaves, cool breeze, and the prospect of cozying up to the fireplace with a down comfortor, a warm cup of cocoa, and your best friend – whether that’s your mate, your dog or cat, or a great book.
Quotes abound for this season, some whimsical, most philosophical, and almost all with a message of transition or rejuvination, and of savoring the season. Here in the Pacific Northwest, as we move from the exposure of summer to the cocoon of winter, autumn provides a final burst of energy before the darkness – not unlike the grand finale of our July 4th Lake Union fireworks show.
Below are a few of my favorite autumn quotes. And lest you think you have to go to New England to see the brilliant colors of fall, I’ve included some photos of local brilliance in a gallery after the quotes. Sabor!
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. (Albert Camus)
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird, I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. (George Eliot)
My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. (Robert Frost)
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence. (Thomas Hood)
Autumn. The year’s last, loveliest smile. (William Cullen Bryant)
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all. (Stanley Horowitz)
Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
Autumn paints in colors summer has never seen. (Unknown)
How beautifully leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days. (John Burroughs)
Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness in color and a time of maturity; but is also breadth and depth and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?” (Hal Borland)
I am made for autumn.
Summer and I have a fickle relationship, but everything about autumn is perfect to me.
Wooly jumpers, Wellington boot, scarves, thin first, then thick, socks.
The low slanting light, the crisp mornings, the chill in my fingers, those last warm sunny days before the rain and the wind. Her moody hues and subdued palate punctuated every now and again by a brilliant orange, scarlet or copper goodbye.
She is my true love.