Now we move into the shadows of autumn…
“Smoke hangs like haze over harvested fields,
The gold of stubble, the brown of turned earth
And you walk under the red light of autumn
The scent of fallen apples, the dust of threshed grain
The sharp, gentle chill of autumn…”
House sparrows on oats, September 1906; From ‘The Country Diary Of an Edwardian Lady’ by Edith Holden.