O Autumn

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest rest

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

-William Blake

48 comments

    1. Interestingly, a number of tragic life events have occurred in the fall.

      But…there’s still something about the color and the beauty that is compelling.

      I still love it.

    1. That one was my favorite too.

      And we actually had a focus issue with the camera that made some of the pictures not so great.

      Trying to figure that out.

    1. Not down at all…but not dependent on humor that I just couldn’t find last night.

      So it worked well.

      And thank you.

      Love back at you, beautiful.

  1. Love the pictures (especially the one with the water drops on the leaf). Fall really is my favorite time of year as well. I love seeing the vibrant colors of the leaves, the smell of fires being lit in fireplaces for the first time since spring, and the feel of the brisk air in the morning. I <3 autumn. :)

  2. I’m so jealous. I think that’s what I miss most about the North. In FL the leaves instantly turn dead crumpled brown and make me rake.

    1. This is about as fall-ish as it gets in California.

      Northern, that is.

      I don’t know if they have fall at ALL in Southern Cal.

      It’s all palm trees, isn’t it?

      1. No palm tree here. Only the rich can afford. :P I just have ugly trees which I’m sure is the official name. My daughter wants to know where all the colors are she learned about in school but that would require I get out some paint and a ladder to create a Fall yard scene so I just said the Grinch stole them.

    1. Ahh…I love when I can send a dorky English major to heaven. Especially since I was once a dorky English major myself!

      And I’ve not tried anything with Keats. Maybe for spring.

      No…ee cummings for spring.

      Maybe Keats for winter.

      1. Can’t beat Keats for an Ode!

        Wee man getting to be not so wee these days – learnt how to climb stairs yesterday, but chooses to descend by just stretching out his arms and heading down head first!!

  3. “Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
    In the forest of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye
    Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

    My dad would quote these lines (and the rest of Blake’s poem) sometimes instead of reading me a bed time story.

    The same man who loves my moveable Halloween witch.

    But because of his love of Blake and all things Romantic and Victorian lit, I achieved my B.A. in English lit, coming to love the Romantics with all my heart.

    Thank you for making me feel as though I was back in my dad’s lap this afternoon. Hope you’re feeling better. : )

    1. I am totally in love with your dad.

      My great-grandmother used to do Longfellow. “This is the forest primeval..”

      And I am doing better, lovely one. Thank you for checking in.

  4. P.S. Wordsworth has a beautiful poem celebrating daffodils, my personal favorite: “… And then my heart with pleasure fills,//And dances with the daffodils.”—from “I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud”

  5. First thing that struck me about these beautiful fall photos was the perfect shade of red in many of the leaves especially in the last couple. Interesting you should post those now. Maybe it’s a special communication to you noting the post the other day.

    1. I was having a hard time writing last night. I didn’t have funniness in me, and didn’t want to write a melancholy post. A friend suggested posting pictures, and we had just taken those this weekend. And I saw all that red and new that that’s what would work.

      And then I got really lucky with the poem.

  6. We were walking in Portland the other day, and I looked down at the sidewalk.

    A few maple leaves.

    I thought there were more, but then realized my mistake.

    Stains.

    Leaf stains. Their imprints on the sidewalk as the colors had melted out of leaves and onto the sidewalk below. Perfect silhouettes of the leaves left behind.

    But the leaves were gone.

    Memories.

    On the sidewalk below my feet.

    Sometimes I cry for no good reason.

    Love you.

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