love is more thicker than forget
by e.e. cummings
* derived from the latin autumnus and possibly the ancient etruscan root autu-, which means the passing of the year.
* was used as the old french autompne (automne in modern french and autumpne in middle english) before it was normalised into the original latin
* before the 16th century, harvest was used to refer to the season
* the word backend, once a common way to refer to the season, has been replaced by autumn
* the alternative word, fall, coming from the old english fiaell or feallen and the old norse fall, means to "fall from a height" and also is related to phrases like "fall of a leaf" and "fall of the year"
* in poetry, autumn is often associated with melancholia (as in Yeats's poem the wild swans at coole and Keats's to autumn)
* since 1997, Autumn is one of the top 100 names for girls in the united states
her favourite colours change with the seasons.
in spring it’s green, brilliant grass green, like the leaves on roses and the moss growing gently on bushy-topped trees. it’s white, like daffodils and fuzzy dandelions, scattering their petals on the wind. it’s purple, soft lilac purple, like the early sunrise and gentle lavender always smiling. it’s pink, like the cherry blossoms waving in the quiet wind.
in summer it’s blue. stunning, piercing blue like the ocean casting itself on the shore, like the sky in the middle of a warm summer day. it’s yellow, like hibiscus flowers and tan like the soft sand lining the beach.
in autumn it’s orange like pumpkin spice, like soft candlelight in the dark and a fire warming the corner of a home. it’s brilliant red, like a forest lined with the leaves falling from bare trees. it’s brown, like the pages of a well-loved book, like nutmeg, like oatmeal that warms your mouth or the tang of coffee or the soft hug of cinnamon tea.
in winter it’s red. bright, passionate red like the stripes on a candy cane or a red rose lying against the snow. it’s white, like snowflakes falling, like the lights on a christmas tree, like marshmallows sitting in a piping hot mug of cocoa. it’s cream, like a well-worn sweater or a fuzzy scarf that keeps away the cold. it’s army green, like a christmas tree that’s just been cut, like the smell of pine wafting through the air.
practicing is so tedious. practice the shift until you get it and then practice it some more. you’re not done
until it’s perfect, but it’s so worth it. isn’t it? the moment you get on stage and see
the lights dim and hear the sounds beginning, it’s worth it. the moment you hear “well
done” from the person who matters the most, it’s worth it. the moment
you feel the tears running down your cheeks because of how beautiful
the music is, it’s worth it. this thing you love,
it is hard, but you do it anyway
because you love it. you couldn’t
imagine living without it.
thank you,
God.
white, pink, and brown // the quiet breeze of morning // lace hemming a white gown // playing the pianoforte // reading poetry // a quiet proposal // slow smiles // running barefoot through the field // i love you, most ardently
dream
* related to the old norse draumr and the danish drøm - “merriment; noise”
* came from proto-germanic draugmas - “deception, illusion, phantasm”
* possible cognates: sanskrit druh - “seek to harm or injure”
* old english dream meant “joy, mirth, noisy merriment”, and also “music”
* this version is different from the modern word for “sleeping vision”
* it faded from use after early middle english
* before it meant “sleeping vision”, the old english dream (or swefn) meant “sleep”
(from “origin and history of dream”, etymonline.)
there’s something irreplaceable about being out in nature.
alone, just you and God, wandering and listening to the rustle of leaves and chirping of birds and twinkling of the stars.
we don’t get that kind of aloneness much anymore. it’s just school, work, more work, and then you go to sleep dreaming about the kind of things you wish you could experience but don’t know if you ever will.
i miss that kind of freedom.
dear little girl with your head in the clouds keep laughing, don’t cry keep dreaming, don’t stop dear little girl with your armful of books ...
