September by Helen Hunt Jackson

An all time favorite ushering in fall.

The golden-rod is yellow; 
The corn is turning brown; 
The trees in apple orchards 
With fruit are bending down. 
The gentian’s bluest fringes 
Are curling in the sun; 
In dusty pods the milkweed 
Its hidden silk has spun. 
The sedges flaunt their harvest, 
In every meadow nook; 
And asters by the brook-side 
Make asters in the brook. 
From dewy lanes at morning 
the grapes’ sweet odors rise; 
At noon the roads all flutter 
With yellow butterflies. 
By all these lovely tokens 
September days are here, 
With summer’s best of weather, 
And autumn’s best of cheer. 
But none of all this beauty 
Which floods the earth and air 
Is unto me the secret 
Which makes September fair. 
‘T is a thing which I remember; 
To name it thrills me yet: 
One day of one September 
I never can forget.

Summer into Fall

How quickly does time pass by - first it's the chilblains of winter which gives way to the promise of spring.  Then, before you know it, it is swelterin' summer - where dreams of fall and winter seem so far away that we can barely remember chilly Halloweens and snow in late November, even in Tennessee.  At this last day of summer, I'd like to celebrate the beauty of this wonderful season.  Unfortunately, now we're even wearing sweatshirts and jackets here.   Of course, that is likely to change any time!

caduta felice!