Please Describe Your Autumn (page 3)

TD

Autumn is a second spring. Plants go dormant during the summer heat --Even most cactus. Right around the beginning of Autumn they wake up again.

wha happened?

Wifey and I love this time. It's foggy in the morning and a little crisp at night. Sometimes it rains

finding my way

Still way to hot :(

I live in Hawaii now and I really miss when the air feels crisp and the leaves turn from green to bright Red, Orange and Yellow.

I have a memory of driving across a bridge to connecticut and just past the water we were driving over there were huge bright trees as far as I could see. Then when we got to the orchard to pick apples we had cider donuts !

But here... It's still hot and I can't wear my hoodies and boots :( It is getting more rainy though so rainy season will be in full force soon and I might get a few days with long sleeves. I can hardly wait!

~fmy

the real life

Sunny in the afternoons, there's still some green on the trees. In certain neighborhoods the trees are bright orange and yellow - for some reason this seems to coincide with the neighborhoods where the buildings are also bright brick red. I always feel like I'm in Brooklyn in those neighborhoods. If you get out of the city to overlook the river valley, it looks like tufts of halloween colored cauliflower :) The river snakes through tie-dyed cauliflower land and you can see the Eiffel Tower, and the suburban towns surrounding Paris tucked on their little hills.

Of course, this is the view from far away. Inside Paris, the air has gotten very crisp. Some of the trees on the street have changing leaves, but the big parks are still green. In any case, we can all feel winter coming. Coats and hats and scarves have come out and I'm daydreaming about mulled wine and hot chocolate.

LouBelle

Autumn on the Eastern Coast of Southern Africa: After the african heat it's a welcome to have buttery sun bathe everything in golden hues without scorching it. The humidity drops off, the salty breeze caressing the coast. Lazy days where you want to find a patch of sun and stretch out and warm your belly, gazing out through your lashes.

We don't really see much of a noticable change in the colour of leaves at the coast, but if you take a drive inland - into the country, there you'll see the leaves turning golden and crispy. Some leaves are a rich velvet red colour.

Autumn is a slowing down, a breathing easier - it is my second favorite season. I love our hot humid summers.

quietlyleaving

were having an indian summer this week.

Autumn colours are gorgeous and now with the trees losing many of their leaves sunsets are more visible and absolutely amazing.

slimboyfat

Blustery autumn days when the leaves are being ripped from the trees always make me think of this atmospheric Dylan Thomas poem:

Especially when the October wind

Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds, Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks, My busy heart who shudders as she talks Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words. Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark On the horizon walking like the trees The wordy shapes of women, and the rows Of the star-gestured children in the park. Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches, Some of the oaken voices, from the roots Of many a thorny shire tell you notes, Some let me make you of the water's speeches. Behind a post of ferns the wagging clock Tells me the hour's word, the neural meaning Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning And tells the windy weather in the cock. Some let me make you of the meadow's signs; The signal grass that tells me all I know Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye. Some let me tell you of the raven's sins. Especially when the October wind (Some let me make you of autumnal spells, The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales) With fists of turnips punishes the land, Some let me make of you the heartless words. The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury. By the sea's side hear the dark-vowelled birds. -- Dylan Thomas