Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
I couldn't begin to match Keats for his poetry so I won't even try. But imagine how dull it would be to live in a country with no seasons? Autumn touches every one of my senses - the wonderful richness of the colours, the unbelievable sweetness of the pears scrumped from the orchard, the faint smell of woodsmoke in the air, the touch of the rough skinned russet (and when did you last see one of them in the supermarket?) and the crunch of leaves underfoot. Truly inspiring.
I agree. The seasons are inspiring and like you I find the colours and smells very evocative. Every time I read this verse by Keats I think of the boat scene in Bridget Jones's Diary when Renee Zellweger is reciting this particular poem. Very funny.
ReplyDeletenothing beats England in the early Autumn - something my brother misses having spent the last 20 odd years in Hong Kong!
ReplyDeleteCall me awkward but I dislike Autumn. Horrible bonfires, thousand of soggy leaves to clear up in the garden, the warning of winter, no bank holidays, dark evenings, the damp air but more significantly, the end of summer. Give me spring any day.
ReplyDeleteDave you are awkward
ReplyDelete