Fragrant Quote for November 11th, 2012-Autumn Fancies by D. Mcnakaka, Windsor, Canada

Standing on November's threshold, bidding farewell to Summer and its joys, to moonlight strolls in city parks or by the sounding sea, to ice cream-soda and the Summer girl, we greet a smiling maiden wrapped in furs, whose name is Autumn and whose youth and beauty are always unchanged, though we, alas 1 are one year older than when last we met.
This season has a beauty all its own, and while we may regret the Summer days when grass and fields were green, the flowers in bloom, when on the water nights were cool and dreamy music came from out a fairy world lit up by myriad of twinkling lights whose reflex shone in the plashing waves as did the stars from out their vault of blue above. Still, this Autumn day the world is beautiful in her shimmering haze. A day, it seems, when nature paused in middle course and blended Spring and Fall to show mankind her beauty. A day whose morning sun rose through a mist to see the grass all wet with dew, the cattle grazing in the meadows, the yellow pumpkin in the corn fields, the apples piled in heaps among the orchard trees, the grapes in bunches on the frosty vines and curling smoke from new-lit fires in every rural home, and when day advances and the plowman's voice is heard through the rich and fragrant land, one takes a deep, fall breath of this pare air and feels that surely here physicians have, Othello-like, lost their occupation, or thinks with some regret, perhaps, of the days when, as a boy, he roamed amid snch scenes the whole day long or went in quest of the opening chestnut burr. And in the city the trees are pretty in their Fall attire, the ground is carpeted with vari- colored leaves, and on the lawns and on the cold stone pavements they are being swept and shovelled up by the slaves of those lords of creation whose palaces look out upon this scene of golden splendor, and young America in the guise of happy, thoughtless youth romps and plays mimie war among great heaps of those yellow tinted souvenirs of a Summer that is gone.
D. Mcnakaka, Windsor, Canada