Fragrance Quote for September27th, 2012-From a September Morning by By Lou. V. Chapin

A pastoral farm scene on the Old Mission Peninsula near Traverse City, Michigan

App's Valley lay basking under the glow of a September sun, and under the radiance of skies whose blue was reflected in the waters of the river and seemed dropping over the distant hills a delicate curtain through which their rugged outlines were softened into symmetrical beauty. The sun had long risen, although it was barely eight o'clock in the morning, and the matin songs of the birds had already been silenced, the heat of the morning being as languidly delicious as its early coolness had been bracing.

The fragrance of the grape blossoms and sweet myrrh was in the air, and no fairer dream of Paradise could be imagined than that presented by the quiet valley which seemed separated from the world by the spur of the mountain which sloped down to the very river's edge.

This paradise, upon the morning of which we write,—a morning in the beginning of September, in the year 1784, was the abode of man, for down near the end of the long, low luxuriant strip of land a cabin nestled near the river bank, and stacks of hay and ripened grain bespoke of thrift and plenty. Another cabin, apparently deserted, about two miles away, was surrounded by a little meadow, and here grazing horses and cattle, quietly nipping the tender green herbage, completed the pastoral beauty of the picture.