Sunday, October 24, 2010
I have a great affection for this time of year, although its intense beauty, which ends almost as quickly as it begins, leaves a longing for autumn’s brilliance that even a roaring hearth cannot satisfy. If April is the cruelest month, mixing memory with desire, then October is surely penultimate in its meanness, offering a blast of blazing color, then darkness followed by the pale stillness of winter.
 






For more fall photos, visit my Flickr Photostream.

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About this blog

This blog's title comes from Ariel's Song in Shakespeare's The Tempest.

Full fathom five they father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearsl that were his eyes;
Nothing of him doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
into something rich and strange.

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