It was a true September morning. Spaces of dark blue sky shone in a cloud-dappled heaven, as if they, and not the clouds, were flitting over the ether of space. Long streaks of ultramarine blue, alternating with folds of cloud, lay like ribs of sand low down on the horizon, and higher up, above the forest, a greenish tint overspread the sky. Earth lay warm under the cloudy covering, like a woman just awakened. The forest scents were mingled with the scent of the ploughed land, a wild savour in the steaming fragrance of the soil. The bell was ringing for the Angelus at Blangy; the notes, blended with the mysterious sound of the wind in the woods, made harmony with the silence. Here and there thin white mists were rising.\
September Morning from Comédie humaine, Volume 18 By Honoré de BalzacFile:Jacques Laurent Agasse - A rural landscape with a ploughman resting with his grey horse, cattle and dog.jpg
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