Dear Reader,
And a sunset during autumn itself is something that captures the imagination. As the sun makes contact with the horizon, it sets the sky ablaze in oranges, reds and pinks. And when this light filters through the semi-transparent autumn trees, the whole place is awash with warmth. SubhanAllah. To me, everything about autumn is warm: the colours, the clothing, the temperature - which is neither the heat of summer that requires us to squint our eyes and hide indoors with the AC nor does it have the chill of winter. Even the rain, as it falls from the sky, often holds are warm quality. I like warm.
To Autumn
1.
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-eves 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.
2.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
3.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
ETA - I've tried but I'm not sure how to fix the highlighting of the poem and other bits. If you know how, then please let me know in the comments section below. Thanks.
I realise that this post is about a month late :-S. I'd like to claim that this is because I've been really busy (a viable excuse since my mother is off on holiday to Pakistan and left me in charge of the house and my brothers) but the truth is my mood has not been at its perkiest of late and I did not want to "rant" on my blog or write a heart-breaking sob-story. I don't usually wallow away in self-pity and I'm sure that you, dear reader, would not want to hear about my small dive into it either.
So now, on to the main topic of this blog: autumn is my most favourite time of the year. I usually don't go into in-depth accolades to abstract things or seasons. But right now, as I gaze out of my window into the garden, or as I was down the streets or through a park, I can't help but contemplate and be in awe of nature during this time of year.
What I like most about autumn are the colours: the greens of summer transitioning into browns, orange, red and gold. And this transition seems to be everywhere I look, and not just in leaves. Say, if a year was a day; then night will be winter, spring will be during the sunrise and morning, summer would be symbolised in the noon-day sun and, of course, autumn would be a sunset.
And a sunset during autumn itself is something that captures the imagination. As the sun makes contact with the horizon, it sets the sky ablaze in oranges, reds and pinks. And when this light filters through the semi-transparent autumn trees, the whole place is awash with warmth. SubhanAllah. To me, everything about autumn is warm: the colours, the clothing, the temperature - which is neither the heat of summer that requires us to squint our eyes and hide indoors with the AC nor does it have the chill of winter. Even the rain, as it falls from the sky, often holds are warm quality. I like warm.
There is a really well known poem by John Keats, that I think captures the transition and slight sadness of Autumn quite well:
To Autumn
1.
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-eves 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.
2.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
3.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
And I think that I'll leave you, dear reader, with the most recent additions to my Autumn reading list, well that is with the exception of Sweetly (which is due to be released in the UK some time in October):
- Just Like Heaven by Julia Quinn
- The Female Brain by Luann Brizendine
- The Grimm Legacy by Polly Shulman
- The Princess Bride by William Goldman
- Ruby Red by Kerstin Gier
- Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater
- Inheritance by Christopher Paolini
- Sweetly by Jackson Pearce
- Idylls of the King by Lord Alfred Tennyson (LAT)
Nida
ETA - I've tried but I'm not sure how to fix the highlighting of the poem and other bits. If you know how, then please let me know in the comments section below. Thanks.
to this, which is now finally out. It is something that can't be help it, I'm a compulsive completionist. 
and 
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as well as 
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being cut off at the bottom of the picture. 
and the 
, followed by the DVD of my Favourite BBC adaptations of Classics, including: 
, 
, 
and 
. 
and 
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, 
and 
. 
's best works. 
and 
. I have to admit, I haven't much grown out of these books in all these years. 
's 
books, the under-appreciated 
, and 
for obvious reasons. 
. 
(in green), 
(in the stripped blue) and my copy of the 
. 
use to reside, but it was burrowed by an old friend and never returned. :'(
. Sorry 
has been transferred, to the top of my big wardrobe to have a teeth and claw battle with...
's dragons. Who will win this epic dual of fantasy vs. horror in the 
of 
at the heart of it all. If you have been following my blog for long enough, you'll remember that 
, a biography of the Prophet Muhammed (PBUH).