And All But Cry With Colour!

It's nearly 1AM and I am done with work for the day. Whew. Once again the stars are clear and bright here in the cove, and my headlamp did little to even whisper in the ear of the great spectrum. The more I think on it, the more I realize that fall really is my favorite season. I like the feeling of settling in for the long winter, the snuggling of sweaters and wool hats, the ability of mittens to turn the stern into children. Crispness of air and breath, leaf and twig. Pumpkins. Football. Bonfires. The first frost. How the horses get gruff and wintered and feel like comfort.
As I am prone to quote trusty Edna as often as possible, I present my favorite autumnal (not 'autumnly', or 'autumn-ish', JULIE) poem:

O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, world I cannot hold thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart--Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

-Edna St.V.Millay 1917

iPod playing an inordinate amount of Elliott Smith tonight.
Earlier it was Ella Fitzgerald--stuck on the E's apparently.
(Liz: I totally stole the idea from you.)