Harvest Time

On this particular day, there was a slight breeze blowing, and I was captured by the movement of the corn stalks and the light behind them.  It was around 4:30 in the afternoon at a farm up the road from where I live.

In a Pile

While I was driving home tonight, I passed by a pile of leaves on the side of the road.  When I saw the glowing yellow, I had to stop and take a picture - glad I had my camera.  This is becoming addicting, and I love it!

Fire in the Woods

symphony of light

I took this photograph at Lost River Cave during a walk through the woods.  It was early afternoon and the sun was shining at the perfect angle.  My walk was very invigorating in that I was able to concentrate on seeing the beauty of autumn and feeling the warmth that comes from being in tune with nature.    

Holding On

Whispers of Winter

Sweeping

While I was taking a walk through the woods the other day, I stopped and stood under this tree and listened to the sound of its branches rustling in the wind.  It reminded me of one of my favorite poems.

The Autumn

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1833)

 Go, sit upon the lofty hill,

And turn your eyes around,

Where waving woods and waters wild

Do hymn an autumn sound.

The summer sun is faint on them -

The summer flowers depart -

Sit still - as all transform'd to stone,

Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,

May yet be in your mind;

And how you heard the green woods sing

Beneath the freshening wind.

Though the same wind now blows around,

You would its blast recall;

For every breath that stirs the trees,

Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth

That flesh and dust impart:

We cannot bear its visitings,

When change is on the heart.

Gay words and jests may make us smile,

When sorrow is asleep;

But other things must make us smile,

When sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, -

Their presence may be o'er;

The dearest voice that meets our ear,

That tone may come no more!

Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,

Which once refresh'd our mind,

Shall come - as, on those sighing woods,

The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind - view not the woods;

Look out o'er vale and hill -

In spring, the sky encircled them -

The sky is round them still.

Come autumn's scathe - come winter's cold -

Come change - and human fate!

Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,

Can ne'er be desolate.