Tag Archives: The luxury of mellow light and the quiet crystallization of autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun…Until they think warm days will never cease,For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.— John Keats, To Autumn The first shift is never about temperature; it’s about the light. Earlier this week, stepping outside late in the afternoon, the glare of high summer was gone.Continue reading “46. The Luxury of Mellow Light”