Autumn: A Little Scrapbook in Art

As we're just approaching the middle of October, and thus the center of autumn, I thought it was time to pull out the next in a series of posts I've been doing: the scrapbook in art posts. The previous ones include snow, rain, and summer. Basically, I take a season or natural phenomenon, and I find poems, stories, songs, paintings, and other artworks that I like that depict that thing. It's not meant to be an all-encompassing scrapbook, just a few works of art to get you in the mood of the season/weather.

So today, I'm collecting some of my favorite art works that remind me of autumn. Here you go:

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To Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 
  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless 
  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, 
  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; 
    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells 
  With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees, 
Until they think warm days will never cease,
    For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? 
  Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 
  Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep, 
  Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
    Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep 
  Steady thy laden head across a brook; 
  Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
    Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? 
  Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 
  And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
  Among the river sallows, borne aloft
    Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; 
  Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
  The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, 
    And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

"Full Moon" by Paul Klee

"Willow Tree March" by the Paper Kites

The morns are meeker than they were by Emily Dickinson

The morns are meeker than they were - 

The nuts are getting brown -

The berry’s cheek is plumper -

The rose is out of town.

 

The maple wears a gayer scarf -

The field a scarlet gown -

Lest I sh'd be old-fashioned 

I’ll put a trinket on. 

 

 

"The Fairest of the Seasons" by Nico covered by Laurena Segura 

"Moon Magic" by Jana Heidersdorf

 

Too Late by me

 

Once again

You didn’t do anything

And now the summer is gone.

Even the Fall is almost over.

You’d said you’d go apple picking, leaf watching.

Now there’s nothing left to look at.

The bare branches, the wind…

You must stop looking and start seeing.

You must see the sunsets, the dusk.

The fleeting fire of clouds that disappear

Before you can make poems of them.

You must see the sparrows, geese, circling hawks.

You must see the leaves with enough colors

To hide a nebula in their skins.

Begin to walk in the woods in the mornings.

Pray to the trees. You are lost and the forest

Has found you. Leave the artificial light of the indoors.

Walk out into the cold. It’s not too late for you.

 

"The King of the Forest" by Evgeni Dinev

Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leaf’s a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay. 

 

"Autumn" by Bombay Bicycle Club

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There are many different facets to autumn. I think the art I chose to display here depicts a couple of them. I hope you enjoyed reading through these.

Thanks for reading,

Ariel