6,101 words
Come out, ’tis now September, the hunters’ moon’s begun,
And through the wheaten stubble we hear the frequent gun;
The leaves are turning yellow, and fading into red,
While the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down its head.
— “All Among the Barley,” British folk song Read more …
All Hallows’ Eve: On Death & Remembrance
I cannot speak for the rest of the world, but for those of us who grew up in the United States, especially in its more rural environs, autumn is a particularly nostalgic season. In part, this is owing to associations formed during childhood: the forest ramblings, the fallen leaves crunching underfoot, the morning fog over the trees, the smell of woodsmoke in the air; the pumpkin patches and hayrides, county fairs and bonfires — all of these thoughts and remembrances come back to us in this season, tinted in shades of red and gold. Read more …