Autumn In Well Research Paper

Fall is not a homeowner, it is barely a tenant- here for a mug of pumpkin spice latte, maybe a slice of apple pie, and then she's off. It's winter's turn now - fall's harsher cousin. Fall is always on the brink. Afraid to go too far. Leaves hanging by a thread, not ready for the committment of turning one colour. Winter has no such qualms - he does nothing halfway. All or nothing is his motto.

I love the cool snowy weather in winter. My favirote part is thee snow. If it nice and packed together I end up going snowboarding on it. If it rains a liitle and the water it adds to the snow freezes it perfect for sledding. I really like ow in winter after your out side a cup of hot chocolate or cider really it the spot. Winter snow falls give me a chance to earn money. I´ll head outside and shovel driveways and sidewalk for five dollars. All in all, winter is my favirote season and it should be yours

Instead of your heavy winter coat, you decide on a raincoat and boots for the upcoming rain. With the wet dirt and uncovered tree’s, earthly smells enclose your senses. Seeing the newly grown grass. Hearing the birds chirp after returning back to their homes. Critters have just begun to come out of hibernation and everything starts to become the active beaten path you used to know. As the clouds start to disappear and the sun comes out of hiding, trees and plants start to bloom with new life with the vibrant colors of summer. Leaving behind the pastel colors of spring, summer brings noisy vibrant colors to life. The animals wake and scamper across the cement pathway while the flowers open to the morning rays. Different smells meet you halfway to fill your nose with aromas that have not been discovered since last

Lush red and orange leaves touched by morning dew fill the limbs of an old Oak tree, rustling as the wind slowly made her way by, teasing the edges of the leaves and tempting them to come with her. The weaker ones went, not realizing their fate, twirling in her presence, following as far as they could manage in the air, encased in feelings of happiness and freedom. Soon, however, the wind died down; causing the leaves to drop and crumble onto the ground. They couldn't express their feelings of remorse so they crumbled in on themselves, shutting out the wind. She came back at times, and some fell for it, the ones that hadn't learned their lesson, they followed her again. Each that did, were ripped to pieces. The tree, in the end, had been robbed.

The air was crisp outside his cabin window. Fall’s cold brush had repainted the treetops; in other places perhaps they were a feast of colour, but the oak tree was different. The last piece leaf fell, not with the grace of a feather, but not so direct as a stone. It offers only a little resistance to the air, not knowing that this is its last dance in the sunlight, its last chance to play in the woodland air and that it soon will be lost in the sea of leaves that have already

Ode to Autumn John Keats Western Governors University Ode To Autumn I chose to analyze John Keats “Ode To Autumn” for this paper. While reading the poem you can’t help but feel like you get drawn into an alternate universe where every word you read appears as an image in front of your face. The poem uses unique descriptive words that do a grand job at drawing up vivid images. The poem describes warm summer days and the blossoming of flowers and trees and how you never want that beauty and feeling of warmth to come to an end. The seasons begin to change and the tone of the words alters from warmth to a more calm.

A crisp breeze bends, splits, and shifts the life around me as I slowly turn, taking in the wide, open meadow. I am in a basin on a picturesque October morning under a soft, blue sky. The mountain is remarkably bold, beautiful, yet, peaceful and right. Golden is the meadow with the yellow leaves swaying on the branches casting their color above me and fallen leaves still vibrant; light swirls and shines above and below. Some branches are bare as fall strips away summer. This meadow situated in the basin of the San Francisco Peaks; a meadow with hay-like grass drying from these bracing waves of winds gives me goosebumps as I shiver my writing slants downwards and then juts up. There is an underlying rattling from this grass all bending to the East from these gusts. Pine needles from the Ponderosas are sprinkled on the ground and crunch under each step I take–crunch, then scatter. I break apart these pine needles and other debris, even some dry leaves from the aspens above.

I have two favorite seasons. My number one favorite season is summer. Then comes my second favorite season, which is spring. I don’t have a third favorite season so we will just go with fall for my last choice. Each season has different traits that draws me to them, such as in the summer I get to spend a lot of time with my friends in the outdoors. Which in the spring you can do almost the same exact stuff it’s just not as hot. But in the fall you can only do a limited amount of things as oppose to all the things in the summer or spring.

Misty dew covers the entire surface of the field. The yellowing corn stalks stand erect and proud until my grandpas tractor comes to end their growth. Autumn slowly weaves its way in and leaves a stain of brilliant color in its wake. Not everyone enjoys such colors, but when you take a second to step outside your doorstep, and look at all the wonders that surround you, you’d be surprised at how marvelous the world can truly be. To me, Autumn is a time for relishing in the colors. Soaking in the oranges and reds while sitting by a warm fire. It’s a time for remembering that everything does end, but it does not have to end in the dreadful way we think it will. Autumn is a time for the closeness of others to keep out the chill of the morning and the starry-eyed darkness of the night.

“Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?’ (12), writes Keats. Autumn is the theme in every department store and convenience store. All the produced produce in this season is cheaper and in greater quantity. People are not working as much because of ball games, festivals and other occasions. Fall festivals are mark with various uses of autumn products like apples, pumpkins and candy yams. It is the last season before people huddle up in their houses to wait out winter.

The world is plump with the maple coated scent of Fall. The innumerable concrete lanes have begun to cripple with phosphorescent leaves this season has invited. With every breath Mother

The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.

In the morning, the whole world had a strange new smell. It was the smell of the aftermath, a green smell, a smell of shredded leaves and oozing resin, of crushed wood and splashed sap, a tart smell, which bore

I am fortunate enough to live on the beautiful island of Nantucket. Growing up here in such a close knit community, has put me aside from your average high schooler in the best way possible. Nantucket is full of incredible wildlife and conservation land that is so unique it looks untouched. Wintertime, when all the summer people leave, you know everybody on the island. It's literally impossible to drive through town without seeing a familiar face. But by the time summer comes the island explodes with electricity that's unlike anywhere else. Massive yachts pack our tiny harbor and enormous private jets fill the airport on the weekends. Having such a drastic change is something that makes Nantucket so unique. Personally, I don't have a favorite season, Nantucket is perfect year round and that's why I feel so blessed to call it home.

It is in autumn that this stasis is best seen, as the world curls up to nap beneath snowy blankets and the forest’s creatures dash about for food and shelter. In this place between places all lies silent and calm, no deer traipse through to nibble at withering clumps of grass, no chipmunks rend the air with their curses. In this place the forest opens, grey brown trunks and boughs of needled pine and cedar giving way to a stately bower of birch and alder trees, their surfaces alternating between black, roughened scars and silvery smooth bark . As summer fades these trees flower, their leaves a fire of reds and golds swirling like flames as they dance through the air. Beneath these flaming branches black mud oozes from between mist darkened rocks and crumbling branches, clinging