“Autumn…the year’s last, loveliest smile” (William Cullen Bryant).

“At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost” (Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Cezann).

“Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn–that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness–that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling” (Jane Austen, Persuasion).

I realize that it’s not officially Autumn until September 22 at 10:29 EDT (according to a website I found via Google). But it sure felt like it today.

It wasn’t cold or chilly, at least by my standards, but it was definitely cooler and there was an aroma of Autumn in the air. I’ve always thought that each season has a distinct odor to it.

I don’t know why Fall makes me nostalgic or why it conjures up so many childhood memories for me. It also reminds me of all those I’ve loved who aren’t here anymore.

I did my pilgrimage to Franklin where I had my Bangers and Mash at McCreary’s Irish Pub, sat outside of Frothy Monkey with my coffee-nated beverage and my Jan Karon book, and walked around in the almost-Autumnal air. It was lovely.

I hope there are hayrides and bonfires and pumpkin spice beverages in my future. Maybe even a corn maze. I hope there are plenty of brisk days where I can make good use of my flannel shirts and light jackets.

Thank you, God, for the quiet of Autumn and the reminder that after every Autumn and Winter there comes a Spring.