Follow me:

Autumn in the countryside (some snapshots)

Hey everyone! I’m sorry I have been a bit off the radar lately. But let me make it up to you with some pics of the gorgeous autumn-time countryside.

While I’m putting this post together, I’m secretly listening to Christmas music. I know it is only the first day of November, but now that the days are getting shorter, I am really starting to look forward to the holidays.

However, I think autumn is amazing and gorgeous as well! I’m so lucky to live in such lovely surroundings!

Oh, and as I am definitely not the only one who adores autumn, I put in some nice quotes about the season too.


The magic of autumn has seized the countryside; now that the sun isn’t ripening anything it shines for the sake of the golden age; for the sake of Eden; to please the moon for all I know.
― Elizabeth Coatsworth, Personal Geography: Almost an Autobiography



In the fall, I believe again in poetry
if nothing else it is
a movement of the mind.
Summers ball together
into sticky lumps,
spring evenings are glass beads from one mould
for standard-size youth,
winter a smooth heaviness, not even cold.
But the mind trembles
here, on the brink
the mind trembles
there is life, after all,
there is life, still
unbelief left.”
― Jaakko A. Ahokas

sam_4375-min sam_4380-min

At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost.
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Cézanne

sam_4378-min sam_4392-min

Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn–that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness–that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.
― Jane Austen, Persuasion

sam_4384-min sam_4405-min

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.
― Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s


Enjoy the lovely days of autumn, and have a great week!

Previous Post Next Post

You may also like

No Comments

Leave a Reply