A Hint of Fall In Summertime Inspiration
Summers can be long and dreary in our corner of the universe and I was in desperate need of a hint of fall in summertime.
On one particular day, our morning had gone well, however, things began to go downhill in the early afternoon.
My children and I were hot and hungry, and our attitudes reflected it.
After a simple lunch and lengthy naps, we felt completely rejuvenated.
It didn’t hurt that the temperature had dropped 30 degrees in the span of a few hours due to a storm blowing in.
With cooler temperatures and a light sprinkling of rain falling from the sky, it almost felt like fall–my favorite season of the year.
A Hint of Fall
In the kitchen, I prepared something nourishing for dinner, then slid homemade banana muffins in the oven.
Within minutes, the decadent aroma of cinnamon and vanilla coming from the oven made our house smell like fall.
Stepping outside for a moment to enjoy the smell of the rain, I had to remind myself that it was still June—not October.
Returning to the house, I turned on my favorite rainy jazz music and finished preparing dinner while the children read and worked on art projects.
Rest.
Peace.
Contentment.
Nourishing meals.
The scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
Relaxing music.
Beautiful art.
Uplifting books.
Togetherness.
It takes intention to make a house a home, but every effort made is worth it.
Sometimes God plants a fall-like moment right in the middle of summer, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
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A Hint of Fall Inspirational Quotes and Poetry
Enjoy these fall quotes as you prepare to transition from summer to fall:
“Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!”
Humbert Wolfe
“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
Jim Bishop
“As long as autumn lasts, I shall not have hands, canvas and colours enough to paint the beautiful things I see.”
Vincent Van Gogh
“If I were a bird, I would fly about the Earth seeking the successive autumns.”
George Eliot
“I sit beside the fire and think/ Of all that I have seen/ Of meadow flowers and butterflies/ In summers that have been/ Of yellow leaves and gossamer/ In autumns that there were/ With morning mist and silver sun/ And wind upon my hair.”
J.R.R. Tolkien
Fall Entertainment
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Poetry
Autumn Fires by Robert Louis Stevenson
“In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!”
The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them,
The summer flowers depart,
Sit still, as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands,
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come, as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind, view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill
In spring, the sky encircled them,
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe, come winter’s cold,
Come change, and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.
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A Calendar of Sonnets
September by Helen Hunt Jackson
O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung
On wands; the chestnut’s yellow pennons tongue
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped
In yellow, still lie fields where wheat was reaped;
And yellow still the corn sheaves, stacked among
The yellow gourds, which from the earth have wrung
Her utmost gold. To highest boughs have leaped
The purple grape,–last thing to ripen, late
By very reason of its precious cost.
O Heart, remember, vintages are lost
If grapes do not for freezing night-dews wait.
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy’s estate,
Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost!
October by Helen Hunt Jackson
The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
October, lavish, flaunts them far and near;
The summer charily her reds doth lay
Like jewels on her costliest array;
October, scornful, burns them on a bier.
The winter hoards his pearls of frost in sign
Of kingdom: whiter pearls than winter knew,
Or Empress wore, in Egypt’s ancient line,
October, feasting ‘neath her dome of blue,
Drinks at a single draught, slow filtered through
Sunshiny air, as in a tingling wine!
November by Helen Hunt Jackson
This is the treacherous month when autumn days
With summer’s voice come bearing summer’s gifts.
Beguiled, the pale down-trodden aster lifts
Her head and blooms again. The soft, warm haze
Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
The violet returns. Snow noiseless sifts
Ere night, an icy shroud, which morning’s rays
Will idly shine upon and slowly melt,
Too late to bid the violet live again.
The treachery, at last, too late, is plain;
Bare are the places where the sweet flowers dwelt.
What joy sufficient hath November felt?
What profit from the violet’s day of pain?
