Fragrant Quote for November19th, 2012-Autumn Musings and Photography. BY WM. GEO. OPPFNUETM, PH. D., L. B.

Early morning mist in october, Zuid-Kennemerland national park, Netherlands
The autumn world seems suddenly sunk into a mild, waveless, almost impalpable ocean, a dreamy sea in which all the functions of Nature proceed in mellow silence, a sea whose golden water stirs not the gossamer nor disturbs the bees fumbling the latest flowers.
Indian summer runs like a golden thread through the autumn from almost mid-September far into November and sometimes with rare re-appearances well toward Christmas.
Sharp, hard, unsympathic days come in October and November like sober strands in the season's woof, but the golden thread appears and gives character to the high autumn. 
It is a subtle atmospheric condition composed of frost and sunshine, a narcotic balm and pungent stimulant that makes the autumn of this latitude the loveliest in the world.
"When one comes to make a further analysis of the autumn, one finds that the Indian summer touch of melancholy is the most spiritual element of the season's charm; then and only then does Nature seem to pause and show her sympathy with the sadness in the lives of men.
Spring is all hope, summer is riotous with joy, winter is boisterously self-sufficient, only autumn is thoroughly receptive, and into the aspects of Nature in that season man most readily reads the underlying sadness of his own soul.
Mingled with this sadness, however, is the unspeakable freshness of the autumn days; now, as ever, mornings and evenings are subtly expressive of the seasons.
It is well worth a night at a suburban hotel to catch the autumn morning of the suburbs at its best; sunrise comes sometimes at 6 o'clock, and an hour later the whole air is etherealized by the mist of the rising dews exhaled from surrounding meadows.
The woodland paths, thinly spread with new fallen leaves, are more than ever inviting to vagrant feet.
Whatever wild part remains in the blood asserts itself, and one is scornful of the laws against trespassing.
The whole suburban world seems rightfully his who has the feeling and the strength to cover it afoot, as '' Books belong of right to him that knows best how to use them." It is one of the pleasant facts of suburban life that anti-trespass notices are unusual; one may usually yield to the vagrant instinct of one's' feet and traverse unchallenged of man or sign-board whatever expanse of meadow and woodland the eye may take in.
If it does not suit the wanderer to pass the night in the suburbs let him rise early and walkjthe length of Central Park while yet the mysteries of the autumn night have not utterly fled before the sunlight; the occasional hum of wheels and the glint of spokes where some devotee of the silent steed takes his early morning spin, can scarcely destroy the illusion of a wild park miles away from the city's din.
The squirrels come down from their dens in the trees with quirks and coquettish noddings and backings and head-tossings and bowings, and show their tameness by accepting nuts from animal lovers, who watch their antics with ever increasing pleasure.
Every breath is an inspiring compound of autumnal spice and sea odors ; there is a lift in the atmosphere that makes a man feel as if his blood was among the stars, and in the harbor and along the North River opposite Claremont every moving thing seems to be aslant and every cat boat and tug seems to be instinct with life and color.
Autumn Musings and Photography.  BY WM. GEO. OPPFNUETM, PH. D., L. B.