Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.

Nothing in nature is as simple as it sometimes seems when reduced to words.

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?

The owl, that bird of onomatopoetic name, is a repetitious question wrapped in feathery insulation especially for Winter delivery.

Two sounds of autumn are unmistakable...the hurrying rustle of crisp leaves blown along the street...by a gusty wind, and the gabble of a flock of migrating geese.

Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.