“Every leaf speaks bliss to me…”

I picked these up from the brick lined path leading to my local library

At 8:54 p.m. CST this evening, fall arrived with her usual flair for drama – following a torrential Texas-style downpour and thunderstorm. She waited until the last raindrop fell before making her grand entrance.

I don’t blame her at all for this. After all, it’s the moment when the Sun crosses the “celestial equator.” If that isn’t worth some drama, I don’t know what is.

Some people worship celebrities. I worship seasons. I mean not literally, but yeah I’m pretty crazy about autumn. I’m the one with pumpkin-spiced everything. The one with autumn-y wreaths and candles and tchotchkes galore.

My family indulges me in this, and I’m grateful.

And look at this – my husband knows my harvest-loving heart so much he surprised me with this!

I could go on forever about the joys of autumn. For now I’ll leave you with the wistful words that Emily Brontë used to portray her own feelings about it:

Fall, leaves, fall

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.