"Corn and grain, corn and grain,
All that falls shall rise again."
Wiccan Harvest Chant
"The Gilding of the Indian summer mellowed the pastures far and wide.
The russet woods stood ripe to be stripped, but were yet full of leaf. The purple of the heath- bloom, faded but not withered, tinged the hills...Fieldhead gardens bore the seal of gentle decay:...its time of flowers and even of fruit was over" Charlotte Bronte