Zhaba Zhournal
Wednesday, September 22, 2004 
Season of mists 
Before the day's actually over, I'd better post this: Happy First Day of Fall! (Or "Autumnal Equinox," if you like big words.*)

Fall is my favorite season; I love the crisp days and cool nights, the impeccably blue skies, the russet and gold leaves on the trees and the tannic tea-and-tobacco scent of the dry leaves on the ground. I've waxed more poetic in the past, but I've got that Work Thing I'm supposed to be doing; and anyway, why wax poetic when Keats already did the decisive poetic treatment of the season in his "Ode to Autumn"? (My favorite of his poems; the last of the great odes he wrote before his death; and, for what it's worth, the only one that doesn't contain the word "adieu.")

Here's the text of the Ode to Autumn as presented by Bartleby.com; I can't just quote part of it, because I like the whole darn thing too much. (Plus it'll make me get as misty as the season; it's one of the very few pieces of art/literature that's guaranteed to make me feel weepy.)

*Almost said "if you're sesquipedalian," but that would have been a bit too much. ("Sesquipedalian" is one of those wonderful words that embodies its own definition; it means "given to using long words," and if you use the word "sesquipedalian," you're being sesquipedalian; Q.E.D. And yeah, I get way too excited about this kind of thing.)

[ at 3:39 PM • by Abby • permalink  ]

Yes, that's me.


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