When the season has become pronounced and settled there is a
ripeness in everything. The leaves die and the fruit falls; they
die and drop because they have run their course. They tell of
completeness and perfection as well as of decay. We are
thoughtful, but yet not sad. Autumn wears no weeds in coming to
the goal. Her robes of red and gold are put on--a sort of royal
attire. It is the crowning of the year.
- Zion's Herald [Harvest Home]
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Last Revised: 2008 June 30
Copyright © 1999-2008 John C. Shepard. All Rights Reserved.
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